Here, There, and Everywhere
by sweasley
Summary: T/V. Just because Ted and Victoire have worked out their drama, doesn't mean the drama won't find a way to make itself apparent. SEQUEL to "A Year in the Life" & "The Spark".
1. An Extended Curfew

_Disclaimer: If you recognize someone, they belong to JKR. The others are all creations of mine to fill the gaps. :) Plus, any similarities are accidental and completely unintentional._

**A/N: This part 4 of 4.** If you're here before checking out part 1: **_"The Start"_, **part 2** _"A Year in the Life"_, **or part 3 **_"The Spark"_ ****do not pass go!** They read best in order, and you won't have a clue what's going on since this is the **sequel** to them all. :) See my profile for more info and a chronology of the series.

Special thanks to **deadwoodpecker** for her beta help!

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**Summary: **_After finally working out their feelings, Teddy and Victoire are together at last. Even when a little distance finds its way between them, it can't damper what they both know is a truly amazing thing. After all, it's just a few months until Christmas..._

_But just because the drama has stopped for the two of them, doesn't mean the drama has stopped in the lives of those around them. Things are changing everyday for everyone, but for whom do these changes bring smiles and for whom do they bring tears? Why is it that everyone now seems to be hiding something? And why does drama always try to force itself upon a good thing?_

* * *

**Additional A/N**: And I'm back with the final installment of my T/V series! The **sequel **to it all, as told by Ted and Victoire. Phew! I know some of you have been following me since day one and have been waiting awhile for this, so I hope I can deliver. This story is the longest of them all at **40 chapters**, so we've got quite a ways to go!

Also, this story is a little different from my others in that there are **two** versions of it. A T rated version and an M rated version. Let me start by saying that they are NOT different stories; the plots are identical in both. The only difference is that there are certain instances in the M rated version where I continue on with a scene that I would have already ended in the T version. It's your call as to whether or not you want to read on. I know some people aren't a fan of delving into that sort of thing, and I have readers across the board. I'd hate for someone to not be able to experience the end of the series just because they're not comfortable with M content or they're of a younger persuasion. So, THIS TIME, I compromised. :) I started the series in T, I'll end it there as well.

But! There is another version for those of you who aren't fazed by it. The one hosted here is the** T rated version**. The M rated version is hosted at my fic journal (you can find a link to it in my profile, or seek out weasley_wannabe at livejournal). Feel free to follow the link over to my journal for more information and instructions, and feel free to friend me if you're interested. I'll remind people throughout the story as to which chapters have an alternative version.

Anyway, enough rambling. On with the show. :)

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**August 2017  
**  
Victoire Weasley stared up at the ceiling from her position on the floor of her living room. She was bored. She was _unbelievably _bored. She was so bored that she had been counting the seconds as they ticked by on the clock for the last seven minutes. 421 seconds thus far…422…423…424.

"What are you doing?" asked the voice of her brother, Louis, who had entered the room loudly chewy on something crispy.

Victoire barely picked her head up off the floor. "Absolutely nothing."

"I can see that, but why are you lying on the floor?"

"Because there was absolutely nothing to do on the sofa, or upstairs, or in the kitchen," she said, pulling herself up to face him. "So, I thought perhaps the floor would provide something new."

It was true. There really wasn't anything to do. After one of the most eventful summers of her life—a month in France, a trip to the Quidditch World Cup, and the start of a new relationship with one her oldest friends—things had tapered off. She'd gotten back from France and the World Cup almost two weeks ago to find that her best friend, Whit, was now on holiday in the Bahamas with family, and that her boyfriend, Ted, had to work…which he did a lot. His hours were ridiculous when she really thought about it.

That's not to say things weren't eventful when Ted wasn't working, but those moments weren't as frequent as Victoire would have liked them to be. No one could say they didn't make the effort, though. Even when Ted was too exhausted to do much, he and she would still find the time to spend together. If was something as insignificant as just taking a nap, they'd do it. As far as she was concerned, doing nothing _with_ him was a lot more fun that doing nothing _without_ him.

From what Ted told her, things wouldn't always be this busy for him, but lately he was swamped down at St. Mungo's Hospital—where he worked in antidote research. He claimed that the hospital was working him more than usual because of some dragon pox presentation he had to give on the first of September, which of course could not have been worse timing for the two of them. Why things couldn't have waited until after she was back at school to get this hectic, she'd never understand; unfortunately, she had little say in the matter.

She knew deep down that it was probably better that they couldn't spend _all_ of their time together. They were trying to keep their new relationship a secret from most of their families and friends, knowing that everyone would make an unnecessarily huge deal out of things once they were discovered. She knew her parents would be taken completely by surprise, and that the entire dynamic of how Ted was received around her family would totally change. Instead of him being able to simply waltz upstairs to sit and talk, her mother would probably make him sit in the living room so she could monitor them, just as she'd done with Victoire's last boyfriend. If her parents knew what was going on, instead of being able to go visit with Ted freely like she was allowed to do now, they would both probably restrict her from visiting his flat on her own.

And this was Ted! This wasn't even some random boy she'd brought around! This was a boy her parents had known his entire life, yet they would still instill the same set of insanely strict rules and boundaries. It was so stupid. She was seventeen after all, so technically she could do whatever she wanted. But that would never be the case as long as she was still at home and in school; even if she liked to pretend otherwise.

Louis sat down on the sofa nearest to his sister. "Yeah, well, I'm wicked bored."

"Didn't you say Jack was coming over later? At least you've got that to look forward to."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me any less bored now."

"Dominique said Sarah was supposed to come over later, too," she added, thinking of her sister and her best friend. "At least you'll have something to keep you busy then."

"You're not sticking around, then?" he asked.

Victoire shook her head. "I'm going over to Ted's."

"Again?"

"So what?" she asked, glancing up at him. Louis was one of the people who still had no clue about her and Ted's relationship. Her sister, Dominique, was aware of things, but Victoire had continued to keep her brother in the dark for the sake of secret. She had no particular reason for doing this other than she was keeping it a secret from everyone. She wouldn't have told her sister if she could have helped it, but Dominique had been privy to details that others hadn't been; she'd known about things before she and Ted had made their relationship official. After everything that had happened at the Quidditch World Cup, Dominique wasn't stupid enough to believe that nothing had come from it.

"You've just been hanging out with him a lot lately, is all," Louis said.

She sighed lazily. "We don't see each other much these days what with school and work getting in the way. That's what summer is for, after all. Catching up with friends." She bit her lip. "Plus, with Whit gone for the last week and a half, he's really the only one around I enjoy spending time—er, killing time with."

She smiled a little after saying that. That was exactly the way she had to play this if she didn't want people catching on. She needed to make it seem as though Ted was really the only other option and _that's_ why they were spending so much time together.

"Tell Ted to come over here," Louis said with a lazy yawn. "You're always going over there. He never comes round here these days."

There was a reason for that, of course, but Victoire wasn't about to announce it. She simply hummed as if she agreed with him, though offered nothing further. Spending time here at her house meant that she and Ted had to make a point of keeping their act up. At his flat, they could just be themselves. At his flat, they could do whatever they wanted; that was the way she much preferred it to be.

A sudden knock at the door gave Victoire a start. Things were so quiet and monotonous around the house that even the sound of a fist on the wood door seemed foreign. She glanced at Louis, who had placed his crisps down on the sofa and was already standing to make his way to answer it.

_Good,_ she thought. She hadn't wanted to stand up anyway.

She could hear her brother greet someone and watched the entrance of the room for someone to make them self apparent. Victoire knew that if she only moved herself just a few centimeters to the right, she'd have a complete view of the front door and whoever was there, but even that seemed like too much work at the moment.

"Hey," said a familiar sounding voice that happened to be attached to familiar face. Upon entering the room, Sarah Kirke, Dominique's best friend, was now standing there and smiling down at Victoire. She had her usual pin straight, light brown hair pulled back, and her ever-ready smile plastered across her face. Sarah was a sweet girl, and probably the most patient person Victoire knew—which came as no surprise considering that Dominique was her best friend. Victoire had always considered Sarah to be Dominique's walking, talking conscience; one of the few people who could talk some sense into her sister and, in turn, deal with her stubborn, overbearing nature. At times, Victoire thought Sarah deserved the Order of Merlin for some of the things Dominique made her put up with.

"Hi, Sarah," Victoire said as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Nicki said you weren't coming over until later. She just ran off to the Quidditch store."

"Oh," Sarah said, her smile faltering. "I thought she had said she'd be home around three?"

"She probably did," Victoire said. "She's completely unorganized. Always forgetting things."

"She'll be back in like an hour," Louis said as he walked back over to pick up his bag of crisps off the sofa. "You can hang out until she does."

"Yeah," Victoire said. "It's not a big deal. We're being really boring, but you're more than welcome to be boring, too."

Sarah smiled. "Thanks."

"Hey, Sarah," Louis said as he headed towards the stairs. "You want to hear the new Nymph Chaser's single?"

"You have it?"

"When did you get it?" Victoire asked, sitting up fully straight for the first time since she'd lain down.

Louis shrugged. "I was bugging Dad for the box set of their albums, but he said I had to wait until Christmas for them." He turned and suddenly disappeared around the corner towards the stairs. "So, he somehow found the single and got it for me."

"Hey, Lou," Victoire yelled after him. "Why don't you bring it downstairs so we can all listen?"

Only the sounds of feet thumping up the stairs answered her. Victoire didn't hesitate to roll her eyes. She knew for a fact that he had heard her.

"Brat."

"I definitely want to hear it," Sarah said before she turned towards the stairs. "Are you coming up?"

Victoire sighed as she stared up at the ceiling. She knew she had to get up eventually. She had actually wanted to clean a bit before her parents got home from work in order to put them in good spirits when she asked if she could go over to Ted's tonight.

Still, she wasn't sure she wanted to get up quite yet. She was strangely comfortable all of the sudden.

"Nah, I don't think so," she said. "I'm good here on the floor."

* * *

Ted yawned at his desk as he signed off on yet another patient form. He checked the clock for the eighth time in the last fifteen minutes. How was it still only 3:30? Hadn't it been 3:30 ten minutes ago? Was this clock broken? He stared at it for a minute and watched as it ticked to 3:31. Okay, maybe it wasn't broken. Either way, four o'clock sure was taking its time in arriving.

"Hey, Lupin," said one of his co-researchers, a young guy called Durrin, from across the laboratory that they worked in. He was doting over a hot cauldron at the cook station and looking rather puzzled about something. "Rash Reduction is counter-clockwise strokes or clockwise?"

Ted glanced over his shoulder towards him. Durrin had been training since summer had started and was getting nearer and nearer to his completion. The only issue seemed to be that he had a slight problem remembering small, but very important details.

"Which do you think it is?" Ted asked.

"Counter."

"You would be correct," he said lazily, feeling too tired to be cheerful today. He'd been there since six that morning after having spent most of his day yesterday writing up reports on dragon pox test experiments.

Dragon pox. Bah. A part of him almost wished he could catch dragon pox just so he wouldn't have to study it any longer. He hated dragon pox. The only thing he hated more than dragon pox was that the Russians were coming to St. Mungo's on September 1st to listen to him and coworkers drone on and on about dragon pox information that they—the Russians—probably already knew. No only did they probably know it, but they also probably knew it months ago.

Worst yet, it was September 1st of all days. The day Victoire left to go back to school. Not August 31st; not September 2nd; not any of the days that would at least given him that extra day where he didn't have to worry about anything other than how much he wanted to lay around and nothing with her. No, they chose the 1st. Stupid, fucking dragon pox…

The door to the lab suddenly burst open in an unnecessarily loud manner. The source of the noise, another co-researcher of his called Nate, smiled cheerfully at everyone as he entered. With a swagger in his step, he walked over to his desk and threw his things down. "Afternoon, gentlemen."

"What's up, Nate?" asked Durrin. "You're in a good mood."

"I'm in a terrific mood," he said as he walked over to observe what Ted was doing. "Did you finish those pox test experiment reports yesterday?"

Ted stared at him. Nate being this cheerful never boded well for him, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"I'll assume your silence means you did at least some," Nate said once he hadn't answer. "Hazel will be happy to hear it. She's been on my arse about mine since last week."

"I finished all of mine yesterday," Ted muttered. "She can't give me anymore shit."

Nate had made motion to turn back towards his desk, but stopped abruptly. "Wait? You finished all of them? Yesterday? There were about fifty of them."

"I wanted to get them all done so that I had tonight off," Ted said before checking the clock again. It was 3:37.

"You got big plans or something?"

He shrugged and began to pack up some of his things. If Nate was here, that meant he could leave early. He wasn't going to hesitate in taking advantage of that. "Sort of."

"With the mysterious girlfriend?"

Ted cracked a smile.

"Why won't you tell us anything about her?" Durrin asked before he pulled his ladle out of the cauldron to examine it.

"Oh, Durrin, you'll learn," Nate said without taking his eyes off Ted. "Lupin's an enigma wrapped in a puzzle. The man thrives on letting as little information as possible get out about him. He'd be perfect for the Department of Mysteries."

Ted continued to smile as he shuffled several papers around on his desk.

"Though," Nate added, "I can't understand why you're keeping the girlfriend a secret. Unless you're making her up."

Ted shrugged as if he didn't care what Nate thought…and that was mostly because he didn't care what Nate thought. "Maybe I am."

"I think you get off on being the mystery man," Nate mumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned away.

Ted laughed. The truth was that, granted, he and Victoire were trying to keep their relationship a secret from people, but that was only a small part of the reason that he didn't tell anyone he was working with specifically who she was. He really just didn't see it as being anyone's business. He liked his work life to be just that—his work life. He wanted it completely separate from his personal life; plus, it was sort of funny to watch Nate get annoyed for being so out of the loop.

"So, Romeo," Nate said from across the room. "What are the big plans?"

Ted turned around in his chair, unsure as to who Nate was speaking to. "Are you talking to me?"

"Who else would Romeo be?"

"What the hell is a romeo?" Ted asked, glancing at Durrin for a possible explanation. He shrugged as if he didn't have a clue either.

Nate stared at them both. "He's famous character from a Muggle—" He made a face. "Never mind. I was taking the piss about you having big romantic plans."

"I don't really have big plans," Ted said. "I haven't really gotten to spend a lot of time with her lately because of all the ruddy pox shit piling up," he gestured to the stack of papers on his desk, "so I'm just going to take advantage of the chance to see her." He looked at the clock. "Speaking of which, I'm going home. You're here early."

"Yeah, go get yourself cleaned up for your lady friend," Nate said, looking him up and down. "That is, if she really exists."

"Even if she doesn't," Ted said. "I'm still going home." He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

Both Nate and Durrin threw lazy waves in Ted's direction before he headed straight to the door and out into the corridor. He didn't bother with the lifts; instead he went straight to the stairwell and down the stairs so he could Apparate back to his flat.

After a quick pop, followed by seconds of transportation time between the hospital and his flat, his front door appeared in front of him and he let himself inside. As he entered, he gave his flat an immediate once over. It wasn't clean, but it wasn't messy either; it could definitely use a few minutes of tidying up.

He turned and let his eyes meet his bedroom, where through the open door his comfy looking unmade bed sat.

Or he could sleep…

Clean or sleep? That was the question. He needed to do both, but which should he do first? Which needed to be done more?

He inspected his living room again. He only _really_ needed to pick up after the mess he'd made writing reports the day before. That wouldn't take very long if he just sucked it up and got it over with.

Still…

He glanced at his bed. He really didn't want to be exhausted when Victoire came over. It was almost unfair how, for the last week, he'd been practically comatose every time they had seen each other.

He tossed his bag on the ground and headed towards his room. Piss it. The place wasn't really _that _messy. He could clean later.

* * *

"Stop it, Louis!" said Dominique's voice from just outside the open kitchen window.

Victoire looked up from the sink, where she was currently charming a sponge to scrub the sink's basin. Outside, on the side of the house where Dominique and Sarah were sitting, she could just make out her brother standing next to the girls. Whatever he was doing, it was annoying Dominique.

A moment later, the door to the kitchen opened and slammed shut. Dominique had entered, the front of her shirt soaking wet and an empty water glass in her hand. Victoire watched as her sister stomped over to where she was standing at the sink and forcibly thrust her glass under the tap.

"Why are you all wet?" Victoire asked.

"Louis's being stupid," she said. "He claimed he accidentally knocked my glass over, but I must have told him ten times that if he kept messing about, it was going to spill. Sure enough…" She gestured to her shirt.

Victoire cast another glance outside. Louis was now sitting and talking to Sarah, calmly as could be. Whatever he was saying, she found it rather funny.

"Why are you cleaning the sink?" Dominique asked.

"Mum had mentioned that she wanted it cleaned, so I thought I might as well do it."

Dominique's eyebrow rose. "You thought you might as well do it?"

She shrugged.

"Wait, I know why you're cleaning," she said as though something had dawned on her."You're trying to get on Mum and Dad's good side so when you ask them to go over to Ted's for the fiftieth time this week—"

"That's an exaggeration…"

"—they'll say yes because you've been such a good little helper."

Victoire gave her a hasty look before glancing up to see if anyone had heard her. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

"The whole kitchen looks cleaner," Dominique said as she ran a finger along the counter, as if inspecting for dust or grime. "Did you clean the whole thing?"

"I really had nothing better to do."

Dominique laughed. "We could have this whole house spotless at this rate!" She leaned lazily against the counter and stared out the window. "You know, my room needs a good cleaning."

"Why would I clean your room?"

"Why should I keep your secret?"

Victoire made a face. "Because one day, you may have a secret worth keeping, or you'll need my help with something. You'd hate to have this all come back to bite you in the arse, wouldn't you?"

"Eh," she shrugged, "I can't see myself ever being stupid enough to keep my boyfriend from Mum and Dad."

"You'd have to find a boy to put up with you first," Victoire said as she shut the water off and picked up a nearby dish towel.

"Now that was just cold," Dominique said with a small smile. "Plus, you've seen the boys we go to school with." She shook her head. "Slim pickings. Sarah and I were just talking about that earlier. Speaking of which, I should get back out there before Louis drives her mad."

Victoire glanced back out the window once more where Sarah and Louis were still talking; both looking friendly. "She doesn't look as if she needs rescuing."

"It's Louis," she said, walking towards the side door. "Anyone in his presence needs rescuing."

Victoire thought she knew a few people that might disagree with that considering her brother's ever growing popularity, but she let Dominique think whatever she wanted as the door clicked shut behind her. As soon as she was gone, the sound of another door opening and shutting echoed in from another part of the house.

She turned on the spot, throwing her dish towel down and checking to make sure everything was where it needed to be. Without a moment to spare, she plastered on a grin as both her mother and her father entered looking tired, but happy. They seemed like they were in good moods. That was always a good sign.

"'ello, sweet'eart," said her mother as she walked into the kitchen first.

"Hi," Victoire said, still smiling expectantly at them both in the hopes that they would take notice of how clean and tidy everything looked.

Her father put his things down on the kitchen table and looked around. "Did you clean in here?"

Victoire nodded. "I heard Mum say she'd been meaning to clean the sink, so I thought I might as well." She shrugged. "Then I figured, 'why not just do the whole kitchen'?"

Her parents both stared at her.

She smiled. "I was bored."

Her father looked at her mother. "I never thought I'd see the day where she'd get _that _bored."

Her mother laughed as she went over and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Well, I very much appreciate zat. You did a lovely j'ob."

"It was no problem," Victoire said, watching her mother set about the kitchen in search of what she could make for dinner. "Plus," she hesitated, "I was sort of hoping I could go out tonight."

"Ahhh…" said her dad. "It all makes sense now."

"No," Victoire said quickly, "I didn't do it just because I wanted to…" She laughed. "You don't think that's why I cleaned the kitchen?"

"I think that's exactly why you cleaned the kitchen."

"I can't do anything nice without having an ulterior motive?"

He walked over and tousled her hair. "Motive or not, you're doing housework. I can't complain."

"You 'ave gone out every night zis week," her mum said as she pulled out several pots from a cupboard.

"That's not true," Victoire said, remembering that Ted had to work on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, so she hadn't bothered to go out. "And anyway, it's summer. I'm just taking advantage of the free time I get to spend with my friends while I still have it."

"Iz Jane still out of town?" her mother asked.

Victoire nodded.

"So, who have you been spending all your time with?" asked her father once he sat down at the table. "Ted, again?" He laughed. "He must be sick of you."

Victoire shrugged and avoided her father's eyes.

"I don't care if you do," he said lazily. "Just be home by eleven."

"Eleven?" Victoire said in protest. "Dad, come on."

"Come on, what?"

She looked at him obviously. "Eleven? Don't you think I'm old enough to have my curfew extended a bit? It's been eleven since I was sixteen."

"I thought eleven was too late…"

"I'm just hanging out with Ted," she said, glancing down at her feet before settling her gaze on her father. This was probably not going to help matters once the truth of their relationship was actually revealed, but at the moment, she didn't want to think that far ahead. "We're not wandering the streets or getting into trouble."

He looked at his wife. "What do you think, Fleur?"

Victoire rounded on her mother and smiled sweetly at her. "Please, Mum?"

Her mother was quiet for a long moment, but ultimately sighed. "Eleven-zirty, but no later."

Victoire smiled brightly. She'd take it. "Thank you!" She went and quickly hugged her mother before dashing around the table to hug her father where he sat. "I'm going to go get ready." She turned and dashed towards the stairs.

"Victoire," her mother called after her.

She stopped and backtracked into the kitchen. "Yes?"

"You're skipping dinner?"

"Oh. I was just going to grab something with Ted. No big deal."

"How is he not sick of you?" her father laughed.

Victoire shrugged. She could think of a few reasons why, but she wasn't about to share any of them.

* * *

Ted blinked his eyes open and looked around. Feeling groggy and still quite sleepy, something had jarred him awake. He suddenly heard a knocking from somewhere and assumed that had to be what it what it was. Someone was knocking. He sat up and looked around, yawning widely. What time was it?

He stood up and reached for his shirt, which he quickly pulled over his head. There was another knock at the door and he lazily scratched his head before pulling himself up out of bed. With another yawn, he walked through his living room to answer the door; upon pulling it open, he was greeted by the site of Victoire casually leaning up against the side of the door frame, smiling up at him.

"Were you still sleeping?" she asked.

He smiled and leaned his head against the door frame. "Sort of. Is it six already?"

"Six-fifteen," she said, stepping forward as Ted stood back to let enter. "I gave you fifteen extra minutes."

"You didn't have to do that," he said, shutting the door behind her.

"I wouldn't have had I not had my curfew extended."

Her stared at her through groggy eyes, but slowly smiled. "Oh, yeah?"

"Don't get too excited. Eleven-thirty."

"Hey, I'll take what I can get."

"I said the same thing," she mumbled.

Without another word, Ted turned on the spot and walked straight back into his bedroom. He had hoped Victoire would take the hint and follow him, but found out a second later that this wasn't the case.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

He plopped on to the edge of his bed and yawned again before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Come here."

She remained out of sight in the other room. "You're not going back to bed, are you?"

He laughed to himself. "Just come here."

He began stretching his arms out in front of him as she finally entered, but she immediately bypassed him where he sat. She had instead chosen to climb over the edge of his bed and plop herself down behind him, somewhere in the middle of the bed. When he glanced back at her, she was fluffing pillows behind her back.

"Comfy?" he asked.

She smiled and made a point of putting one of the pillows behind her head. "Now I am."

He glanced down at the empty space on the bed beside her. "If I lie back down, I don't think you're getting me back up."

She seemed to consider this. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Well," he smiled as little as he adjusted the way he was sitting so that he could lean in to kiss her, "that all depends."

"On?" she asked as she pulled back and glanced up at his messy bed head hair. She reached up and absently started trying to straighten it out.

"On whether we actually go out like I said we would."

She smiled and shrugged as she continued to sort through his hair. "We don't have to go out."

He rubbed his face and sighed. "Yes, we do."

"I don't care either way, Ted. I'm just happy you can fit me into your schedule."

"Don't say that," he said, frowning a little. "That makes me feel like a prat."

"You're not a prat," she said as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I wouldn't be with you if you were a prat." She smiled and quickly kissed him. "I have standards."

He smirked, but looked away from her. He needed to wake up and stop being lazy. He and Victoire had been together for over two weeks now and they had yet to do anything outside of these walls. She would come over; they would hang out; they would fool around; they would nap; she would even keep him company while he begrudgingly tried to get some last minute reports done for work, but they hadn't done _anything_. He'd never even gotten to take her on a real date yet, which was pretty embarrassing considering it'd been two weeks. Sure, he'd have plenty of time to take her out and be a proper boyfriend after the first of September, but of course…

"We're doing something tonight," he said matter-of-factly. "Just give me a few minutes to wake up."

She learned further back against his pillow and stared at him. "Honestly, Ted, it's not a big deal. I mean, what can we do? We can't go walking around Diagon Alley holding hands or kissing because the chance of someone from Gringotts, who knows me and my parents, sees me snogging some boy with blue hair, only to turn around to tell them."

"Keeping this a secret sucks."

"Keeping this a secret is why I'm sitting in your bed right now and able to do this," she leaned forward and kissed him, "instead of you and I sitting in my living room on opposite sofas while my mum walks in every five minutes to make sure we've both got our feet on the ground."

He laughed. "Your mum cannot be that bad."

"Oh, just you wait."

"I just don't want to end up dead," Ted said with a lazy smile before he stood and went to his wardrobe. "That's all I ask. It's always the bloke that ends up in the real trouble. Like, they'll think I'm corrupting you and making you lie to them."

She smiled. "You are corrupting me."

He turned away from his wardrobe and shot her a very particular smile. "But I'm not making you lie to them." He turned back and pulled out a shirt. "And don't act like you don't like being corrupted."

He heard her laugh as he disappeared towards the loo to wash his face and change his clothes. With a quick glance in the mirror, he watched as his hair changed from the mousy brown color he had to wear for work to the blue color he much preferred. He began running his hands through it in attempt to straighten himself out, all while trying to think of where the two of them could go out to where they wouldn't run into anyone who may pose a potential threat to their secret. The wizarding world was far smaller than it appeared to be when he really thought about it. They could go out into Muggle London—

A sudden idea struck him. That was it. That was perfect.

He poked his head back out into his room. "Okay," he said. "I have an idea. Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

He smiled. "All right, I'm going to take you some place really special."

Victoire stared at him before glancing down at her own clothes and then back at him. Both were dressed casually and, knowing Victoire, he knew that he mind had immediately gone to a place where she wondered if she was dressed properly for whatever it was that he had in mind.

"You're over dressed, if anything," he said. "Trust me. We're going to go and pretend to be Muggles."

"Are we?" she asked curiously.

"This place is really special," he said with a smile. "Just bear with me."


	2. A First Date

Ted wouldn't tell Victoire where they were going. She simply had to take curious stabs in the dark about various places, only for him to shrug as if he wasn't going to say anything anyway. As they left Diagon Alley for the Muggle streets of London, she eventually gave up and just decided to follow him. Apparently, being elusive and secretive was something Ted was quite good at, though she didn't know whether that should worry her or not. He was a poor liar, this much she knew and had become accustomed to over the years. However, when he wasn't saying anything one way or the other, he was next to impossible to figure out.

"How about a hint?" she asked once they reached a busy, car filled traffic junction.

"We're almost there," he said, reaching out to take her hand in his. "You've got three minutes until you'll see for yourself. Be patient."

She threw him a funny smile, but decided to just go with it. Ted clearly liked his surprises, which was something new that she'd discovered now that she was with him. "Ted the friend" had always fairly straight forward; "Ted the boyfriend" liked surprises.

Not that Victoire minded since she liked surprises too, but unfortunately, being patient in surprise situations had never been something she'd quite worked out. She was always the one who had found the Christmas presents in the crawl space before either of her siblings had; the one who was always trying to figure out a mystery before anyone else could solve it. People who managed to truly surprise her were hard to find. Though, she had to admit, Ted had come the closest out of anyone lately. Even from the moment of their first kiss at the Quidditch World Cup, he'd managed to keep her on her toes.

"And here we are," he said suddenly, stopping outside of a shabby looking fish and chip shop.

She stared at it for a moment, just as Ted made motion to open the door and gesture for her to enter. She threw him a curious expression before stepping forward, but quickly noticed that the shabbiness was not only limited to the exterior. A few cheap looking tables and chairs were scattered across a linoleum floor in a neon-lit room. A man in a greasy apron was standing behind a counter, doting over some sort of device that seemed to be frying something. Somewhere, a Muggle radio was blasting some sort of rock song. It seemed like any other dingy, run-of-the-mill sort of grease hole, but when Victoire glanced back at Ted, he was beaming.

"You like fish and chips, right?" he asked. "I mean, who doesn't?"

She nodded and absently started gazing around the place. "Yeah, but," she lowered her voice, "we could have gotten these back in Diagon Alley. Why come all the way out here?"

"The ones in Diagon Alley aren't as good as they are here," he said with playful sort of enthusiasm in his tone. He walked over and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and just managing to lay the bottom his chin on the top of her head. "So, what do you want?"

She shrugged. "If you say they're so good, I guess I'll have fish and chips. Is that what you're getting?"

"Yep."

"Okay, then," she said, watching as he pulled away and began making his way towards the counter. "Just get me what you're getting."

He smiled. "How many orders do you want?"

She stared at him. "Just the one— wait, why? How many are you getting?"

He didn't answer her, but instead laughed at something before he turned and started talking to the Muggle man behind the counter.

Victoire looked around and assumed she should probably sit, though she might drown in a puddle of grease if she picked the wrong spot. She took her time to search for table, choosing one against the wall, where she immediately pulled out a few napkins from the portable napkin dispenser that sat on the inside of the table. With little effort, she began wiping the tabletop to eliminate the layer of grease film that had accumulated there; when she picked up the napkin and examined it, the paper was translucent.

She made a slightly disgusted face, but Ted had chosen that moment to return with their food. She quickly forced a smile, realizing that he obviously liked this place for _some_ reason and she could at least make the effort to enjoy herself. She discarded the napkin and glanced to the tray he had brought back with him, but her mouth quickly dropped. He had at least five orders of fish on the tray; enough food to feed at least three people.

"You're not going eat all that," she said.

He smiled as he sat and handed her one of the orders. "Oh, the things you still have to learn about me."

"You're honestly…" she pointed at the food in front of him, which he was now organizing, "going to eat all of that?"

"I haven't eaten all day. I'm hungry."

"I've never seen you eat that much, ever."

"There's a reason for that."

She laughed a little. "Oh, what's that?"

He tucked into his food and seemed to be trying to formulate a proper response to her question. Once he swallowed, he cleared his throat. "Okay, here's the thing. I told you this place was special, right?"

She nodded and she began using her plastic utensils to cut her fish into even rows of bites.

"Simon and I," he began, "have been coming here for months now, since last summer. We will literally fast ourselves all day beforehand. Anyway, he and I sort of made a tradition out of it. When it's just the two of us, we'll make plans to come here and eat a ridiculous amount of food. It's almost embarrassing."

Victoire smiled as she glanced at the food in front of him. "I can see that."

"Anyway, we've both said," he continued, his tone growing less playful and more serious, "that we can't bring just anyone here."

She popped a piece of fish into her mouth and started at him as she chewed.

"Particularly girls," he added. "We both decided that you can't just bring any random girl here. I mean, I could, but honestly most of them would probably think less of me for eating like this. It's got to be someone special who's not going to judge me, which means it's got to be a certain kind of girl." He smiled and looked away. "I always said the day I found a girl that I could bring here, that would be the day I knew I was in love."

Victoire stared at him a little blankly. She didn't even know what to say to that. A minute earlier, she had been thinking this place was just a dumpy hole-in-the-wall and wondering what the charm was that would get the grease stain out of her shorts. Now, after that little declaration, it was quite possibly the most romantic place she'd ever been.

"So, yeah," he said as he dug back into his food. "That's why it's special." He smiled at her. "This is sort of a big deal for me."

She continued to stare at him.

"You think I'm mental, don't you?"

She shook her head. "No, I was just thinking about how I think this is my new favorite restaurant, ever."

He laughed. "Which is why I knew I could bring you here."

"You haven't ever thought of bringing anyone else here?"

He shook his head. "Well, I don't count Simon."

"Not even Cel—"

"Nope," he said quickly, purposely cutting her off. "She probably would have bitched had I brought her through the front door." He made a face. "That really should have told me something early on."

Victoire smirked as she picked up and chip and chewed on the corner of it. "But wait. Didn't you tell me once…?" She trailed off and bit off the end, all the while wondering whether she should bridge this subject. She felt like she could talk to Ted about anything, and hoped he felt the same, but the area of exes—and particularly Celia—was probably weird. Given the history of everyone involved, it was probably better to simply avoid bringing that topic up as much as possible. Still, not talking about it just because it may be weird seemed like she was intentionally holding back. She didn't want to hold back.

"Didn't I tell you what?" he asked.

"Way back when you and Celia were still together," she said, "you said you thought you were in love with her."

Ted laughed a little and his eyes went wide for a brief second. He poked around in his dinner. "I said that?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you were over at my house, and I asked you if you were in love with her and you said that you thought—"

"I think that answers your question," he said bluntly.

She looked confused. "I didn't ask a question."

"I'm going to guess where this was going," he said as he leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "I thought I was. I was wrong. I didn't have a clue, I just…" he shrugged, "I thought I was. It's one of those situations where you're with someone for so long that you assume you are because—why wouldn't you be?"

She nodded slowly, but continued to run the issue around in her head. She believed what he was telling her, that wasn't the issue, but something was still playing at the back of her mind; she wasn't even sure what it was. Even if he had actually been in love with Celia, that really wouldn't have bothered her…well, okay, it would _a little_ because of how much she couldn't stand Celia, but she couldn't change his past and everything that had happened before they were together. She certainly couldn't hold it against him if it truly was in the past. She didn't want him thinking that she was somehow bothered by this—

"I know this time," he added, cutting into her thoughts. "If that's what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"You're thinking," he began, "that if I only ever thought I was with Celia, what's to make you believe that I'm not just thinking I'm in love with you." He set his elbows down on the table. "But it's a hundred times different this time. I wish I could explain how different it is, but, I mean, it's got to say something when I was with her for almost two years and I only ever _thought_ I might be in love with her, versus a few weeks," he paused, "or months—but anyway, to know that even after just a little bit of time that I..." He stopped and shrugged. "I love you."

Something inside of her clicked as he said that. It was as if suddenly everything was a little clearer; a little less fuzzy. Whatever little reservations had been nagging at her seconds before had disappeared with those words.

She smiled at him. "I love you, too."

He grinned and went back to eating.

Victoire took her fork and poked into a piece of fish before quickly popping it in her mouth. As she chewed, she suddenly realized why everything had suddenly clicked just like that.

"That's the first time we've said that," she said

Ted looked up from his dinner.

"I love you, I mean. It's the first time we've ever said that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes. It is."

"I've said 'I love you' before," he said.

"You've told me that you're in love with me before," she said with a small smile. "You've never— and I've never actually said those three words."

He stared at her. "You're serious?"

"I'm positive. I'd remember something like that."

"I would think I would, too," he said as he now seemed to consider this revelation. "You're positive?"

She nodded. "I'm positive that's the first time we've ever had that exchange."

Ted made a face and began looking around the greasy restaurant, settling his sights on the man behind the counter. Victoire followed his gaze, and they both witnessed the man suddenly snort up something nasty and phlegmy sounding into his throat.

Victoire immediately looked away, her stomach turning.

"And this is where we decided to do it?" Ted asked.

"There is a certain charm," Victoire joked.

"Oh, no," he said quickly. "I want a redo."

She laughed. "You don't get a redo. But, the good thing is, you're not limited to just one attempt. You're more than welcome to say it allllll the time." She smiled. I won't stop you—"

She was cut off by the man behind the counter suddenly sounding as if he was hacking up a lung.

Ted laughed and wiped his hands on his napkin before throwing it on the table. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm full."

"More than full," she said, dropping her fork onto the table. She cast the man behind the counter one last glimpse and watched as he squashed a bug against the wall with his bare hand. She looked away, trying not to cringe. As sweet as Ted's gesture was, they were definitely going to have to branch out a bit when it came to finding places to eat.

After they cleaned up after themselves and exited back into the warm summer evening, Victoire realized that, technically, this was her and Ted's first date. She knew it wasn't _really_, since how can you have a first date with someone you've know forever, but she was never one for technicalities. Even with what that restaurant had lacked in cleanliness and décor, it had made up for with Ted's genuinely sweet intentions in taking her there. She glanced up at him sideways, almost surprised that he was full of so many unexpected, yet adorably romantic gestures. She really did have a few things left to learn about him.

"So, you've got me out," Ted said as he grabbed her hand. "What else do you want to do?"

She shrugged as she glanced up at the sky. It was purple and blue as dusk slowly began to creep over the city. She could just make out the moon appearing behind the clouds. "It's such a nice night."

"Yeah, it is," he said before he stopped and let his hand drag. It made Victoire stop as she felt the tug. He was staring across the street. "Come on, let's cross the street. We'll go for a walk."

She followed his gaze to a large city park that was just beyond the busy traffic junction they were currently standing at. They would have to cross the street. Ted tugged on her hand when the street lights tuned red, which caused the cars to stop, but having grown up not accustomed to the way Muggle street laws worked, Victoire was always second guessing herself when forced to cross a busy street. Cars were large and it would probably hurt a great deal to be hit by one. The idea that she might accidentally find herself crossing at the wrong moment was always at the back of her mind.

Upon reaching the other side, she let out a relieved sigh once they were safely on the pavement; even going so far as to glance back at the pelican crossing triumphantly. It was always after the fact that she realized how stupid it was for her to worry about walking into traffic. She had eyes after all. All she had to do was not walk when the cars were moving.

"You okay?" Ted asked.

She turned back to him. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You just grabbed my hand really tightly a second ago."

"Oh," she said, faking obliviousness. "Did I? Weird."

"Let's go check out that fountain," Ted said, pointing up ahead to a very large fountain. It was currently shooting water up straight into the air from not only an ornate looking object in the center, but also from various other sources around its perimeter. It was large enough that Victoire realized it would probably take a good ten minutes to walk around the entirety of it once. Joggers, tourists, and lollygaggers alike were congregating around the fountain's edge, while several onlookers were taking pictures of it and lounging lazily around its concrete boundary.

"You know, when I was in Paris," Victoire said, looking the fountain up and down as they approached it, "there are fountains everywhere. Just these beautiful works of art that seem to pepper the city." She smiled. "I love fountains."

"Yeah?" Ted asked.

She nodded as they reached the concrete edge and stared into the swirling pool of water that was just within reach. She sat on the edge and put her hand in the water before looking back at Ted. "The sound of moving water is just really calming to me. I'm sure it has something to do with growing up on the sea, but it's an instant stress reliever."

Ted sat down next to her and stared into the water. "I never knew that."

She shrugged and smiled. "Oh, the things you still have to learn about me."

He laughed as she cast a glance around at a group of nearby people who were removing their shoes and socks and sticking their feet into the water. Just beyond them on a grassy field, a large group of Muggles men were playing football and kicking a ball from person to person in an attempt to run it down the field. Everyone looked to be enjoying a lovely summer night. And why wouldn't they be?

From beside her, she suddenly felt Ted stand and jump up on the fountain's edge. She looked up at him.

"Looks pretty refreshing," he said absently. "It's so hot out lately."

She laughed a little. "So, go for a swim."

He threw her a doubtful smile. "I'm not one for making a spectacle of myself by swimming in public fountains."

"I dare you."

"Right," he said sarcastically, "because that'll make me do it." He took a few steps along the ledge. "Maybe when I was ten…"

"You wouldn't even do it when you were ten," she said as she stood up and took a few steps back to observe him. "You would chicken out. Remember? There was that one time I dared you to kiss me—"

"One time," he said as he turned to face her. "One time, I chicken out and you—"

She laughed and cut him off. "It was the only time you had the chance to chicken out because you refused to ever play that game with me again!"

"That's because I didn't want to risk having to be dared to kiss you again," he said, watching his own feet as he continued to trail along the edge of the fountain. "But hey, dare me to kiss you now. I'll be more than happy to make up for lost time." He hopped off the ledge. "And with interest."

"With interest?" she asked with an intrigued smile. "And what does that mean?"

He walked straight over to her, getting so close that he was now only about a centimeter away from her face. With a particular look—a look she happened to find quite sexy—he said, "Dare me and you'll find out."

"Oh, really?"

He glanced around. "Well, not here, but later when it's just the two of us."

She bit her lip and looked back at the fountain. "Well, later does me no good. We're here now, so," she reached up and quickly tugged on the front of his shirt before letting go and walking back to the fountain, "I stand by my original dare."

"Tell you what," she heard him say before she turned her back on the fountain and refaced him. He was walking towards her. "I'll go in, if you go in."

"That's not how this game is played," she said with a quick smile. "You know the rules."

"Screw the rules," he said as he wrapped his arms around her mid-section and pulled her towards the fountain. "I could toss you in. You weigh about a stone."

"I would kill you!" she shouted, laughing as she let her body go dead weight. Ted was easily bigger than she was—and would have no problem tossing her in if he really wanted to—though, she didn't think he really would. Not that she wanted to risk the chance that he was feeling the need to be especially funny today.

Just in case, she made a point of pushing them both back away from the ledge. Ted hadn't let go of her yet, but he wasn't trying nearly as hard to push back against her struggles.

"Do you really think I'm going to toss you in a fountain?" he asked.

She looked up at him curiously, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm not sure, actually. You have been full of surprises lately."

He shook his head. "Well, as sexy as it would be to see you all wet, I'm not about to throw you in a fountain."

She laughed, though as she did, someone abruptly tapped Ted on the shoulder. He let go of her and turned around to find a man in a Panama hat standing before them with a polite smile. He was accompanied by a woman, who looked to be the similar age as he was, and a boy, who looked to be a young teenager.

"Excuse me," said the man in what sounded like a heavy Irish accent. "I am sorry to bother you, but could you take our picture?" He pointed to the fountain.

Ted glanced from the man to the fountain. "In front of that?"

He nodded and gestured to his family.

"Oh, yeah, sure." He gave Victoire a quick look. "No problem."

The man smiled broadly as he pulled out a camera and handed it to Ted. "Just push the button," he said before ushering his family towards the fountain.

"Which one?" Ted mumbled to Victoire as they both looked down at the camera that couldn't have been bigger than the palm of her hand. It had all sort of notches and buttons on it and wasn't like any of the cameras they were used to in the wizarding world. There wasn't even a viewfinder to look through and line up the picture.

"I can't even tell," Victoire said as she glanced back at the family. "Excuse me. Which button is it?"

"Oh, Bradley, go and show them," said the woman to the boy, who shuffled over to them and took the camera back. He pushed a few quick buttons and handed it back to Ted. On a small screen on the camera's back, suddenly everything Ted pointed towards showed up in full view.

"Wow…" Victoire said impressively. Muggles were always coming up with such creative ways to do things.

Ted pointed the camera back at the family and started counting back from three before a bright flash went off. Instantly, the picture he'd just taken appeared on the screen.

"Look at that," he said to Victoire. "Except they don't move. It's always so odd to see stationary photographs."

"I know, it's weird," Victoire said as the family reappeared to collect their camera.

"Top of the line," said the man as Ted handed him it back. "It's got thirteen mega pixels!"

Both Ted and Victoire smiled as if they knew what that meant.

"Just captures the picture in fantastic quality!" the man added. "Like magic!"

"Like magic…" Victoire repeated, throwing Ted a smile. He handed the camera back to the man, who thanked them both and turned to his usher his family away. The younger boy hesitated.

"Cool hair," the boy called out to Ted before quickly turning to hustle after his parents. "Hey Mum, can I dye my hair blue?"

Victoire looked at Ted. "You're so cool," she teased.

"I know that," he joked, just as she wrapped her arms around him and gazed up at his face. He also looked up, but he was searching the sky. "It's getting starting to get really dark."

"You want to go?"

He shrugged and looked back down at her. "It's sort of romantic. In fact, let's try this again." He got a look of determination on his face. "Vic, I love you."

Victoire broke into a stupid grin and opened her mouth to speak, but just then, a light from somewhere within the fountain suddenly clicked on, as if on some sort of timer. The fountain was suddenly brightly illuminated in an extraordinary and showy sort of way; the glow from within now lighting up everything within the vicinity. A group of nearby people suddenly "ooohed."

Victoire eyes went wide. She turned back to Ted, who also looked a little awe-struck by the timing of it all.

"I wish I could say I did that on purpose," he said slowly.

"Wow…" Victoire muttered. "You know, I'm going to give you credit for that anyway. That was pretty impressive timing."

He gaped a little. "That was perfect. And I'm the idiot who had to go and say it in a stupid fish and chip shop." He shook his head. "If anyone ever asks, tell this instead of what really happened."

She laughed. "Let's get out of here."

"Hey, if we stick around, I may be able to make some equally as cool things happen."

"Or," she said thoughtfully, walking a few steps ahead of him, "we could go back to your flat and I could dare you to kiss me."

He stared at her for a second, but quickly pointed in the opposite direction. "I know shortcut if we go this way."


	3. Landing on Green

"So, you've all but cleaned your entire house?" Ted asked Victoire several days later, as the two walked down a suburban street towards a row of house for what they both considered their second date. On this evening though, it wouldn't just be the two of them, but Ted considered any chance where the pair of them actually got to go out and act like a normal couple a date.

"Pretty much," said Victoire. "I think my parents don't know what to make of it, to be honest. I'm mostly just bored, so I clean. It's putting me in their good graces and they let me go out."

"My flat needs to be cleaned, you know."

"Then perhaps you should clean it," she said purposely, throwing him deliberately smug smile.

Ted laughed, but at the same time stopped before a very specific house. He sized it up quickly before pointing. "It's this one."

"It's cute," said Victoire, sizing up the house for herself as she followed Ted up the footpath towards the front door. "Very cute, actually."

"Yeah, Susan's big on the decorating and the upkeep," he said upon reaching the door. He lifted his fist and knocked twice before taking a step back.

"I really like it," Victoire said, sounding more like she was thinking out loud rather than actually addressing him. She bent down and began examining a flower bush by the door, just as noises from somewhere behind the door indicated that someone was coming to greet them. A moment later, as the door opened, a short, dark-haired woman stood there smiling brightly back at the both of them. She was throwing Ted an especially amused smile.

"Hi, Susan," said Ted, returning her smile politely.

"Hi, Ted," said Susan, smiling at him for one second more before she turned her smile onto Victoire. "Victoire. Nice to see you. It's been some time."

In all reality, it had only been a couple of weeks, but she was right in a certain sense. With work keeping Ted as busy as always, and the time he did have to spare spent with Victoire, he hadn't seen much of his best friend, Simon, and his girlfriend, Susan, lately. He usually saw them frequently, so a two and a half week break was, in a way, 'some time.' In fact, this would be only the second time since the World Cup that Ted had even seen his friends; the first time being a surprise visit Simon had made just one day after the World Cup had occurred.

On that very day two weeks ago, Ted hadn't been home from work for more than ten minutes when a strange, loud knocking at his front door had stopped him, quite literally, from crawling into bed. Even before he had gone to answer, he'd already suspected who it was given that there were only so many people who would pound like that that. Sure enough, when he did open his front door, he found a confused and slightly slack-jawed Simon standing there on his doorstep. Immediately, Ted braced himself for the words that were about to come out of Simon's mouth.

"What the fuck?" Simon had said.

"Did I forget to mention that I had something going on with Victoire?" Ted asked, feigning dumb.

"What the fuck?"

He sighed and stood aside so that Simon could enter. Given that he hadn't really gotten the chance to talk to Simon after his relationship with Victoire had come to light, Simon hadn't quite gotten his chance to weigh in on things properly yet. Apparently, he had a few opinions on the matter…

"So, here's the thing," Ted began. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know what was going to happen."

Simon stared at him.

"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it unless there was something to make a big deal out of."

He continued to stare at him.

"You're literally the first person I told once all was said and done."

"Susan's friend, Rachael—who you'd know for all of a week—knew more than I did."

"That's was _before_ all was said and done," Ted countered quickly. "And I only told her because she doesn't know Vic. I wanted a non-biased opinion. Don't even pretend you wouldn't have taken the piss had I come and told you that I had feelings for her."

"No, I would have," he said, making an obvious face. "Absolutely, I would have. But I would have had a laugh and then faced the facts. It's stupid for you think that you couldn't have told me because I would have taken the piss. I take the piss about everything!"

Ted took a deep breath. "I just needed to figure some things out before I told people. Then, by the time I did, she and I were working things out and..." He shrugged. "I don't know."

Simon sighed and looked at the floor before looking back at Ted. He was smirking just slightly. "You and Victoire?"

Ted matched his smirk. "Yep."

"I would have never…" He laughed in disbelief. "How long have you even…? When did this happen?"

Ted considered the question. "I knew for sure around my birthday when I went to Russia for the second time, though I'm sure there were signs before that." He forced an awkward smile. "Actually, I blame you since you had to go and point out how she and Elizabeth Cole are so similar. I guess it got me thinking."

"Now you see it?"

"Yeah, you may have been on to something."

"So, you know this make me right?" Simon asked. "About everything. About them being similar, about everything I've ever said about Victoire, about how good things happen when you stop being such a bloody coward—"

Ted sighed and mumbled, "This was the part I was waiting for," under his breath.

Simon laughed loudly. "This is what you get for get for keeping me in the dark!" he said deliberately. "You dumb prat..."

And for the rest of that evening, Ted had to listen to at least an hour's worth of "I told you so" courtesy of Simon. He supposed he deserved it, and he knew that this certainly wouldn't be the only display of Simon's amusement on the subject. In fact, when he had received an owl from Simon that very morning stating, _"Where the hell have you been? I think it's about time I got to witness the two of you together already,"_ he knew that in accepting the invitation, he and Victoire were in for an eventful evening of having their every move scrutinized and joked about. This evening would be the first time Simon would have the opportunity to spend actual time with them a couple. He was bound to have a field day with this fact alone...

"Come on in," Susan said before she stepped aside from to front door. "Just don't mind the clutter."

Ted wouldn't have minded the clutter if that were possible, but as both he and Victoire entered, they were immediately barraged by cardboard boxes that were scattered all over the room; some open and some sealed shut. Other items—lamps, chairs, knickknacks, and a bookshelf—were also haphazardly strewn about. It looked like Susan was redecorating.

"What's all the stuff for--?" Ted began to ask, just as Susan also began speaking.

"Sorry about the mess," she said, gesturing around. "It's still cluttered from the move. It's been kind of chaotic getting everything organized."

"The move?" Ted asked as he noticed Simon enter from an adjacent room. "What move?"

Susan's gaze turned curious. "Simon's move. He moved in."

Ted looked straight at Simon. "You moved in?"

Simon smiled pleasantly at Victoire before turning back to Ted. "Yeah, I did." He made a funny face. "Sorry, I must have _forgotten_ to tell you. Funny how life changing events just slip people's mind these days isn't it?"

Ted gaped. "You're not seriously holding this," he gestured between him and Victoire, "against me?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm not serious. I haven't seen you in a couple of weeks because you've gone and fallen off the face of the earth and I've been busy moving. I haven't exactly had the time to drop everyone I know an official announcement." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I've just been busy and I knew," he gestured to Victoire, "that you two have been busy, as well."

Ted looked from Simon to Susan and then back again. "You two live together now?"

"That's what moving in together means, dummy," Simon joked.

"It just made sense," Susan said, leading the way to the far less cluttered looking living room, "what with Simon needing to find a new place and us being," she looked at Simon, "well, ready."

"Yeah," Simon said with a quick shrug, following her over to sit on the nearest sofa. "It just made sense, so we figured, why not?"

"Wow," said Victoire, taking a seat on the smaller sofa opposite of them. "Congratulations."

"Yeah, that's a pretty big step," Ted said, sitting beside her.

"We were practically living together anyway," Simon said. "Now it's just official." He looked from Ted to Victoire and slowly smiled. "So, look at you two…"

"So, look at us…" Victoire said, glancing at Ted.

"How is everything?" he asked, sounding amused by the question.

"Good," Ted said, still meeting Victoire's eyes as she nodded in agreement. "I mean, we're trying to work around my schedule and keeping things quiet since her family doesn't know yet—"

"Why don't they know?"

"Because they'll make a huge deal out of it," Victoire said. "I have to be back at school in less than two weeks, so we," she gestured between her and Ted, "thought we might as well just enjoy it."

"How very rebellious of you," Simon joked.

"Well, her sister knows," Ted said. "She found out."

Victoire nodded. "But she's one of the only ones. Let's see...she knows, you two know," she pointed from Simon to Susan, "and then a friend of mine knows." She looked back at Ted. "Then maybe some random people here and there, but no one else significant."

"I guess we're privy to some special information," said Susan.

"See," Ted said, shooting Simon a look. "You're special. You're privy to information others aren't."

"You're still a prat for not saying anything earlier."

"I'm sort of surprised you didn't tell Simon," said Victoire.

"_See_," said Simon, throwing Ted the same look he had just received back at him.

Ted shrugged, knowing that he and Simon could go back and forth like this all night if one of them didn't concede; instead, he leaned back into the sofa and made a casual gesture of putting his arm around Victoire. He noticed immediately that Simon was now watching the entire display as though it was a curious novelty.

He blinked a few times and laughed. "Weird..."

"You might want to get used to it," Ted offered.

"It's just," Simon shook his head, "I've know the two of you since she was eleven and we were, what? Thirteen? Now to see all of this…" He trailed off. "Weird…"

Victoire glanced at Ted. "I guess we're weird."

He shrugged. "Story of my life."

Susan stood up from the sofa. "At this rate, you two might not want to kiss in front of Simon. His head might explode if you do."

"It actually might," Simon agreed.

"Anyway, does anyone want something to drink?" Susan asked as she stared walking towards the kitchen. "What do we have, Simon?"

"Beer, wine, juice, water," he said. "I want a beer, though." He looked back at Ted and Victoire. "I think I need one."

"I should probably just stick to juice to be safe," said Victoire.

"Why?" Simon asked.

She smiled meekly. "I have to go home later. Plus, ever since my curfew's been extended, my mum's been waiting up for me. She can sniff out me drinking way too easily."

Simon pursed his lips and glanced at Ted. He looked as if the realization had just dawned on him that Victoire was two years younger than the rest of them, even though he'd literally just made mention of the fact two minutes prior.

"Right," Simon said, smirking at Ted as he let himself fall silent for a brief moment. "Now, Vicki, I adore you. And you know that, so don't take offense to this. It's purely for a laugh at Ted's expense, but," he laughed at Ted, "your girlfriend's got a curfew."

Ted shook his head. "Arse."

"Funny," said Victoire sarcastically. "Let's not also forget that I'm still only seventeen and I still have an entire year of school left. So, next time Simon, you should try to hit the trifecta and work all three into some terrible joke."

Ted smiled and pointed at her before pointing at Simon. "Don't think she won't kick your arse."

"My money's on her," Susan added.

Simon stood and smiled at Victoire. "I tease because I love. You know I don't really mean anything I say about you. I just like to give Ted shit." He glanced at Ted. "Now, I do mean everything I say about you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Ted said, feeling as though this was just the start of what was to come for the rest of the evening.

Of course, it wasn't so bad. Once Simon did stop trying to make a spectacle out of how "weird" the change in Ted's new relationship was, things gradually did grow more normal. Ted knew Simon was only doing it partly because he found it different, but mostly just to be funny. Either way, it certainly made Ted think about what other people were bound to say once the news really did break; what their families and the people who had known him and Victoire both since they were small children would say. A few members of the Weasley family were bound to make a bigger deal out of things than even Simon was, but Ted couldn't be sure if that was something to worry about or not.

After an hour of sitting around and talking, much of which was Simon throwing in quick quips here and there at Ted's expense, Susan suddenly stood and clapped her hands together. "I've got an idea," she said, staring around the room from person to person. "Let's play a game or something. I've got tons of board games." She looked at Simon. "We could play that one game that's really fun. The one where you have to answer the questions about other people."

"That one is pretty funny," Simon said, glancing at Ted and Victoire. "You end up with some pretty hilarious answers sometimes."

Ted shrugged and looked at Victoire, who seemed vaguely intrigued by the idea. "I love games," she said. "I don't even remember the last time I sat down to play one, though."

"This one should be fun," Susan said as she got up and made her way over to a nearby cupboard that sat on the cornered against the wall. She opened its drawers and began actively searching the shelves for something in particular, though it took her a minute to find what that was and pull it out. "Found it!"

"Are we playing in teams or everyone for themselves?" Simon asked.

"Teams are always more fun," Susan said once she returned and set the game down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. She knelt down on the floor and began setting out a board and several different colored cards before addressing Simon. "Do you want the teams to be me and you versus them," she pointed at Ted and Victoire, "or should we do boys against girls, or we could mix things up?"

"Us against them," Simon said, grinning at both Ted and Victoire. "We'll see how the honeymooners over here fair."

"Sounds good," Susan said as she finished setting the last of the supplies down. She looked up at Ted and Victoire. "Here are the rules. You spin this wheel," she held up a small piece of cardboard with a loosely attached arrow connected to it, "and whatever color it lands on, you have to answer a question about someone else—which in this case is your teammate—in a corresponding category. For example—"

"Blue is 'habits'," Simon said as he read off a piece of paper that had been included in the game. "Green is 'past history,' red is 'likes and dislikes,' and yellow is 'future endeavors.'"

"Yellow's sort of the wild card one," Susan added. "You usually get the funniest answers off of that one."

"Now the other person," Simon continued, "has to write their answer down so that we can prove things match up. Every time you match, you get a point. Every time you miss, the other team gets a point. Team with the most points wins."

Ted immediately smirked at Simon after hearing the rules, though he quickly turned his smile onto Victoire. "Oh, we've got this in the bag."

"Easily," she agreed, now smiling at Simon herself. "I don't know if it was very wise to stick me and Ted on the same team in a game where the whole point is to know the other person."

"I'm not worried," Simon said. "I think 'past history' may be the only one where you'll be able to clean up a bit, but you'd be surprised how many people know less than they think they do."

Ted threw Simon a doubtful look before nudging Victoire in the arm. "We've got this in the bag."

"We'll see," said Susan, reaching forward first to grab the spin wheel. "I suppose I'll spin first." She flicked the little arrow and watched as spun around and around, finally coming to a halt on blue.

"One of you has to ask," Simon said as he handed the colored cards to Victoire. "Grab a blue one and ask."

"All right," said Victoire, right as she pulled out a blue card and began to scan it. Ted looked over her shoulder as she read it aloud. "Susan, what is Simon's worst dinner table habit?"

"Oh, that's easy," she said, looking straight back at Simon. He was staring back at her curiously. He hadn't been quite as quick to come up with an answer as she had.

"I think I know this," Ted said after Simon finally began writing something down.

"We'll see…" he said, finishing up his answer before he placed his quill back down on the table. He turned expectantly to Susan.

"It's that he can't have any of his food touching," she said to both Ted and Victoire. "Nothing can touch or he can't eat it."

"Really?" Victoire asked.

"He's been like that for as long as I've know him," Ted said, glancing at Simon. "That's what I would have said, too."

Simon was made a funny face. A face that clearly said he didn't know what the two of them were on about. "I said that I slurp soup." He dropped his answer onto the table. "I don't consider the 'not touching' thing to be a bad habit."

"It's pretty weird," said Ted.

"You're the last one to talk about weird," Simon countered.

"Okay, well that means I missed," Susan said, handing the spin wheel over to Ted. "So, you two get the point."

Victoire smiled at Simon. "Look at that," she teased. "We're winning already."

"That's because we've got this in the bag," Ted reminded her as he held up the spin wheel and flicked the arrow. He watched it go around the dial a few times before landing on yellow.

"Future endeavors," Simon said, reaching into the card pile and pulling out a yellow card. He cleared his throat. "Which is most likely to be the truest statement in five years time about Victoire: she'll be rich and alone; she'll be happy, but living in a box; or you won't know because you probably won't still be in contact."

Ted inhaled slowly as Victoire threw him a quick smile and began scribbling something down. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he formulated which of the answers she would pick. Not being contact didn't seem like one worth picking, and neither did being rich and alone. That only left…

"I say happy, but living in a box," he said with an affirmative nod. "Because I like to think I'll still be around in five years, so that rules out the other two."

"Smooth…" Simon joked.

Victoire flipped her answer over to reveal the words, _happy in a box_. She smiled. "That would be correct."

"And another point for us," Ted said as he made an obvious gesture of scratching a point down right under Simon's line of sight.

"You two seem a little too happy about living in a box," Simon mumbled before Ted handed him the spin wheel. "All right, Sue, let's even this score back out, shall we?" He spun the wheel and it landed on the green piece.

Victoire pulled out a green card and read the card over. "Simon, what was the name of your partner's very first crush?"

"Oh, for the love of…" he muttered, staring at Susan. She was grinning at him. "Who would know this?'

She laughed a little as she scribbled something down.

"Merlin's arse crack, I don't..." He shook his head. "I know you dated some guy called Mark for ages, so, him. I say him."

She flipped her answer over reveal the name Matt. She threw Simon a weary look. "His name was Matt, not Mark."

"Whatever his name was," he muttered before he slumped back in his chair. "Matt, Mark, what's the difference?"

"Well, one would have been a point for you while the other is a point for us," Victoire joked.

"So, wait, wait, wait, Vic," Ted said, pretending to feign dumb. "They've got another one wrong. What does that mean for us?"

"Well, Ted," she said as she played along, "that would mean we get another point."

"How _very_ nice for us," he said, throwing Simon a smug smile.

Simon rolled his eyes. The fact that he hated to lose was written all over his face. "Keep talking. We've got plenty of time left." He flung the spin wheel at Ted's head. "Don't get cocky."

Ted ducked, watching as the wheel flew over the back of sofa and landed somewhere behind him on the floor. "That's a weapon," he said before he jumped up to retrieve the wheel where it lay. "Assaulting me cannot be the only way you can win this."

Simon shrugged as Ted returned and handed Victoire the spin wheel. "It's a start."

"Thank you," said Victoire, taking the wheel and immediately flicking the arrow onto green. Both she and Ted watched as Simon pulled out yet another green card and scanned it quickly.

His face instantly fell. "This isn't even fair…"

"What's it say?" Victoire asked.

Simon handed the card off to Susan in a manner that said he'd rather be rid of it. She took it and read, "What is the name of your partner's oldest friend?"

Ted and Victoire both laughed. Simon shook his head.

"That's a hard one," Victoire said as she pretended to consider the question. She even went so far as to glance as Ted, as if trying to study his face for the answer. "But...I'm going to have to go with...me."

"Don't even flip your answer over," Simon mumbled. "Just take the bloody point."

"You picked the teams!" Ted laughed.

"I didn't think you'd get every obvious question in the stack," he muttered, crossing his arms across his chest and looking rather grumpy.

Susan watched him, a heavy sigh escaping her. "Why do I have a feeling this will be a loooong game?"

For the most part, the game had turned out to be exactly that. Simon has been on a mission of sorts to catch up, and thanks to a few very easy questions about their partner's sleep habits and dislikes and likes of their jobs, both Susan and Simon did eventually begin to give chase. It didn't hurt that Victoire missed a question about Ted's favorite time of day, and Ted hadn't remembered that Victoire _had_ actually gone on a trip to Egypt with her dad when asked if his she had ever left the continent before. They were still winning, but it wasn't as confident a lead as it had been earlier on. Something Simon seemed now pleased about.

"Okay," Simon said as he tallied up the score. "My team has thirty-four points and your team has thirty-seven points." He smiled. "Look at that. Not bad for two people who haven't known each other their entire lives."

"Not bad at all," Ted agreed. "I still say if those dumb yellow future questions didn't exist, we'd be cleaning up. You've gotten lucky."

"And I say that if all those history questions didn't exist, we'd be winning." Simon countered, handing Victoire the spin wheel for her turn.

Victoire laughed at them both, which was something she and Susan had been doing all night when they weren't throwing each other looks that spelled out their boyfriends were a pair of overly competitive mental cases. She flicked the little arrow and watched as it spun around and around the dial, landing finally on green—past history.

"I'm convinced you always spin green," said Susan

"I've gotten a few reds," Victoire said as she pulled her legs underneath her on the sofa and faced Ted, "but green does seem to like me."

"This game is rigged," Simon muttered.

"It's your game!" Ted said, picking up his quill a readying himself to write down his answer.

"All right, Victoire," Susan said as she held up a green question. "How many people has your partner slept with?"

Ted had been readying himself by staring at the paper and waiting for the question, but he quickly looked up after hearing it. He and Victoire hadn't exactly had this conversation in full yet, which meant that she only knew about his past with Celia. She had no clue about that one night he'd spent with Elizabeth Cole because it hadn't ever felt like something worth mentioning.

He looked back down at the tip of his quill, a heavy feeling now settling in his stomach. If Victoire was going to find this out, this wasn't exactly how he would have preferred it to happen…


	4. Feeling Out and Feeling Up

Victoire shrugged and glanced at Ted, who was now staring at her a little blankly. She smiled. "Just the one."

Ted glanced over at both Simon and Susan, both of whom were staring back at him. Everyone but Victoire seemed to sense exactly where this was going. Ted knew that Simon and Susan knew that the answer was more than one since he had told them, but neither seemed to want to correct what had been said. At least Simon valued helping him avoid looking like an arsehole more than claiming their point.

"What?" Victoire asked as she looked around the group. "Why is everyone so quiet?" She looked back at Ted. "Am I wrong?"

"This is always a fun topic…" Simon mumbled under his breath.

"We haven't exactly had this conversation yet," Ted said to him.

"More than one?" Victoire asked, laughing a little. "What? Ten?"

"No." Ted shook his head. "Um, just the two, actually. No big deal."

She stared back at him, her face now blank. He wasn't sure if she was now mad or simply surprised. Her face wasn't telling him one way or the other if her reaction was being fueled more by the fact that he hadn't bothered to mention this before or more by the fact he'd actually had sex with more than the one person she was aware of.

"Who?" she asked.

"We can talk about this later," he said awkwardly, glancing at Simon and Susan. They were looking at each other, seemingly having a silent exchange over the current scenario playing out in front of them.

Ted sat up straighter and chanced another at look back at Victoire, who was still staring at him. She didn't look mad, but he really couldn't tell. Why should she be mad? Because he hadn't told her? He hadn't had a reason to. It's not as though he'd lied about anything.

"So…" Simon said finally. "That's a point for us, I guess."

Victoire finally looked away from Ted. "Yes," she said quickly, changing her posture so that she was now sitting up more rigidly. "I was wrong, so you two get the point. Whose turn is it?"

Ted watched her for a second and noticed a stiffness in her body language that was slightly unsettling. He glanced at Simon, who was looking back at him with an expression that seemed to be asking if something was wrong. Ted shrugged.

"I'm thirsty," Simon said, pointing to Ted. "You thirsty?"

"Suddenly, I am."

"You want to see what we've got to drink?" He made a gesture towards the kitchen. "You know, _in the kitchen?"_

Ted was already standing before Simon had finished speaking, leading the way through a nearby door and into the adjoining kitchen. As they entered, Simon immediately looked over his shoulder towards the living room before throw Ted a sympathetic look. He lowered his voice. "Is she mad?"

Ted made an exaggerated face and lowered his own voice. "I have no idea. Does she look mad?"

"I can't tell."

"Why would she be mad?"

"Because girls are weird and they get mad about stupid things. Just yesterday, Susan and I had the dumbest row over me leaving a dirty dish in the sink."

Ted rubbed his eyes. "Of all the questions she could have been asked…"

"There's no reason for her to be mad."

"I don't even know if she is mad," Ted said quickly, "but she's something. She's not happy."

"It's just sex."

Ted laughed dismissively. "Sex means a lot of different things to different people."

"Yeah, but what's it mean to her?"

He shook his head and shrugged.

Simon reached into an icebox and pulled out a two bottles. He absently thrust one at Ted. "That might be something you two want to sit down and talk about, especially if you ever plan on having it."

"I know, I know," he said. "It's only been two weeks."

"Two weeks for the two of you is a little different than for most people," he said as he used his wand to pop off the bottle caps. "And hey, she might just be annoyed that she didn't know something about you. The sex thing may be completely unrelated."

"Somehow I doubt it's completely unrelated," Ted muttered before he swigged from his bottle and turned to head back into the living room. He paused briefly before exiting the kitchen and took an over exaggerated deep breath that made Simon laugh.

As they emerged back into living room, Victoire was smiling at something Susan had been saying, which Ted took immediately to be a good sign about her mood. Smiling was always a good sign. You don't smile when you're mad.

He sat down next to her and reached out to give her an affectionate scratch on the back, which caused her to turn and look at him. He smiled and she smiled back, though it was a fairly watered down smile; not to mention, she turned away rather quickly. He sighed and let his hand rest absently on her back.

"Anyway," Simon said in a tone that seemed to want to change the mood, "are we done playing?"

"If you guys want to quit," Susan said as she checked the clock. "Wow, it's almost ten o'clock already. I didn't realize it was that late."

"Since when is ten o'clock late?" asked Simon.

"Ever since I had to start getting up at six for work," Susan mumbled. "Plus, I've just felt really exhausted lately. It's weird, but I feel as if I've had no energy the last couple of weeks."

"Probably because you've been sick," Simon said.

"You've been sick?" Victoire asked.

"Just a little bug," Susan said dismissively. "I think I've beat it. It's nothing serious."

Simon sighed as he plopped back down into his chair. "Yeah, well, I don't want to go to work tomorrow."

"We should enjoy the peace while we can," Susan said. "Only a few more weeks until Portkey registration becomes a complete nightmare." She looked at Ted and Victoire. "Everyone will be trying to plan around the holidays."

"It's gets busy this early?" Ted asked.

"About three months before Christmas time we start getting people trying to make their plans," said Simon. "The amount of illegal Portkeys skyrocket around holidays since the longer people wait, the harder it is to get one." He shrugged. "I can't say I blame them. If I had someone like me telling me that I could only get them home for Christmas three days after the fact and at two o'clock in the morning, I'd be making an illegal Portkey, too."

"I thought you worked in Apparition licensing?" Ted asked. "Why are you even dealing with Portkeys?"

"Everyone deals with Portkeys when it gets busy," Susan said. "And Portkeys are the worst."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Simon said.

Ted looked at Victoire as she absently started examining her fingernails. If it was ten, that meant she had to be home in an hour and a half. If he wanted some time alone with her beforehand, it was probably best that they took off for the night. Plus, he still wasn't sure if she was annoyed with him and whether or not they needed to talk. If they did, giving himself an hour and a half sounded like as good a plan as any.

"Well," said Ted, "I'm pretty tired and I have to be at work at nine, so we should probably be going…"

Victoire turned to him and nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah, okay." She turned and smiled at Simon and Susan. "It's been a lot of fun."

"Yeah," Simon said as he stood back up. "You should get used to it Vicki because you're not getting rid of us as long as you're with this guy."

She followed Simon's lead and stood as well, walking over to hug him where he stood. "I'd never want to get rid of you, Simon."

"You say that now."

"Thanks for coming over," Susan said as she walked the group of them to the front door. "Maybe we can do this again before you head back to school."

Simon snorted a laugh. "She has to go back to school…"

"You were right, Simon," said Victoire. "I spoke far too soon."

"See you guys later," Ted said as he pulled open the door and held it so Victoire could pass first. Simon threw Ted one last reassuring look before patting him on the shoulder as he passed him.

"Night," said Susan once Ted and Victoire had stepped out outside, waving quickly at them both before she snapped the door shut behind her. Now alone with Victoire, Ted glanced forward and saw that she was dawdling just a few steps ahead of him. She looked back in his direction once the door had shut.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked.

"Right now?"

She nodded. "You said you were tired, so I didn't know if you wanted to go home and go to sleep, and I should head home or—"

He made a quick face before shaking his head. "I want you to come over."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," he said obviously. "I could be comatose and I'd still want you to come over. I'm not even that tired. I was just making excuses since I know you have to be home soon and I wanted to spend some time with you."

She shrugged and pulled her wand out of her pocket. "I was just checking. I'll meet you back at your place."

"O—" She Disapparated. "—kay." He stared at where she had been standing. Well, then. That had been interesting. He puffed up his cheeks and exhaled before following after her, where moments later, he found himself on his doorstep with Victoire standing just yards away.

He tapped his wand to the front door in order to open it and walked inside, holding the door for her as he did so. As she passed, a certain tension was definitely present.

"Vic, are you mad about something?" he asked before he let the door slip from his grip and shut itself.

She looked surprised by the question. "No."

He crossed the room towards the sofa, though hesitated before he sat. "No?"

She walked over to where he was still standing and cracked a tiny smile before she plopped herself down onto sofa beside him. "No."

Her smile seemed sincere enough, though he still wasn't entirely convinced. "Are you…" he sat down beside her, "not mad, but something else that's a lot like being mad?"

She shook her head. "No. Why?"

"I don't know." He kicked his shoes off. "Your mood just seemed to change from what it was earlier."

"I'm just tired," she said, adjusting the way she was positioned on the sofa and scooting herself over so that she could lean her back into him. Immediately, she let her head rest against his shoulder, which in turn made him adjust his arm so that he could put it around her. When he looked down at her, she had her eyes closed.

He leaned his head back against the top of the sofa, though he didn't close his eyes. If he closed his eyes, he knew he'd fall asleep and he couldn't do that. Even though he wanted to because he was really comfortable, he couldn't risk falling asleep for hours at a time when Victoire had to be home soon. They were pushing their luck enough as it was; having the pair of them fall asleep together and worrying her parents wasn't something he wanted to add to the growing strike column against him.

"Hey," Victoire said, just as she craned her neck back further to look up at him upside down.

He smiled lazily at her. "Hey, what?"

"You're kind of cute upside down."

He smiled a little. "You're kind of cute all the time."

She smiled before it grew quiet between the two of them again. It was a nice sort of moment. The kind of moment where nothing needed to be said. The silence was comforting in a way that--

"So, you've slept with two people, huh?"

Ted sighed. He'd been waiting for this.

"Teddy, I don't care if you had sex with eight hundred people," she said, though she quickly backtracked. "Well, eight hundred may be a bit much, but the point is, your past is your past. I'm not going to hold it against you, just like I'd hope you wouldn't hold mine against me. I'm just— I'm surprised you've never said anything." She looked up at him. "And I don't even mean as your girlfriend. When you and I were still just friends you never mentioned it."

"You know that I've never big on discussing that sort of thing," he mumbled. "Plus, it happened not too long before I started realizing how I felt about you, so I didn't think much about it. It just happened."

She let her head fall forward again. "It was a one night stand?"

"Yeah."

"Just some random girl?"

Ted stared up at the ceiling. Random was the wrong word considering he still saw and talked to Elizabeth; they were still friends. He just didn't know how Victoire would react to that. He knew he'd be a little weirded out by the idea of her and some guy she'd had sex with still working together and hanging around each other, but in turn, he knew for a fact that she had nothing to worry about in his case.

There was also the issue that she actually knew who Elizabeth was. They both knew each other from school and, if he remembered correctly, had actually been friendly with each other. This would have been much easier to admit to if it had been some random girl he'd met in a pub and never saw again.

"Not random," he said slowly. "I know her from the hospital."

She looked up at him again. "Do you work with her?"

He shook his head. "Not really. We work in completely different departments."

"Oh," she said, growing silent once more. She didn't seem to have anymore questions, though Ted wasn't about to let his guard down in case she did.

He stared at the top of her head. "You don't have anything to worry about if that's—"

"I'm not worried," she interrupted. "I trust you."

Oh. He leaned his head back and smiled a little. That was always good to hear. He almost hadn't expected this conversation to turn out like this. Maybe perhaps because his only other experience in having these sorts of conversations had been with Celia and, well, needless to say, she'd probably be yelling at him right now. His face twisted into annoyance as he thought about that. How had they stayed together for so long?

"I don't even care who she is," Victoire said. "Come to think of it, I'd actually rather not know. What is knowing going to do?"

Ted looked down at her. She couldn't be real. Here she was, brushing it under the rug and claiming she didn't care. No excessive third degree, no badgering, no making him admit how it had truly been meaningless. She didn't care. She didn't want to know.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I love you," he said.

She looked up at him. "Because I'm not mad? I don't know why you thought I'd be mad."

"Your mood changed really quickly after you found out," he said. "I didn't know what to think."

"I was just surprised," she said. "But I thought about it and realized, what's the point in caring?"

"I have the best girlfriend ever…" he laughed.

"Yeah, don't you forget it," she said as she sat forward to turn towards him. She poked him in the side with her finger. "Though, fair warning." She smiled. "When I really am mad, you better watch out."

"How about I don't go making you mad, then?"

"There's an idea," she said, taking the opportunity to lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips.

He pulled away slightly. "Hey, I managed seventeen years with only making you a mad a handful of times." He kissed her again. "I think that's saying something."

She pulled back and quickly adjusted the way she was sitting so that she was now comfortably facing him head on. "I take it you're disregarding the first ten years we knew each other?"

He pulled her closer and started kissing her again. "That didn't count," he mumbled with his lips still pressed against her.

"And that entire year," she began, still kissing him while attempting to speak, "that we didn't speak to each other? That only leaves maybe five years that you weren't making me mad."

"More like seven," he said as he fell back into a lying position to be more comfortable, pulling her down with him so she lay on top of him. "And since when and I'm all to blame? You're not exactly innocent."

Victoire pulled her face back an inch so she could look him in the eye. "Who said I was innocent?"

He stared at her with a now semi-aroused smile, his mind already going a little blank because now only had very particular thoughts on his mind. "Oh, feel free to prove that point by whatever means necessary." He started running his hand down her back. "And I do mean whatever."

She laughed as she leaned forward and slowly started to kiss him, almost as if she was teasing him. She liked to do this he'd learned, which only made him teeter on the edge of anticipation. It was blissful sort of moment, from being calm and relaxed to being fiercely turned on. It didn't last long given that arousal came on fast and quick, but as fleeting as it was, he always enjoyed it. Not as much he enjoyed what generally came next, but he liked the stages.

He grabbed her face and pulled her closer; their kissing getting far more passionate and much less coy. He knew Victoire liked to start things playful and slow, and he almost always had to be the one who took things to the more fervent level, but he rather enjoyed that. He especially enjoyed the way she reacted after just being pushed a little.

Without pulling away, she started tugging at his shirt. He sat up quickly and pulled it off, tossing it to the side and pulling her back down on top of him. This was the feeling he didn't want to disappear. Her being this close, feeling this warm, feeling this amazing—he didn't want it go away. He especially didn't want it to go away for four months up at school. That wasn't even right…

"I don't want you to go back to school," he mumbled as he started fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"That makes two of us."

"Who needs a complete magical education anyway?" he joked.

"I'm sure that would go over well," she said doubtfully, reaching down and pulling her shirt off herself. He loved when she did that. It always reminded him of the fantasies he used have about her before he even knew how he felt about her; the dreams he used to have that always started out with her taking her jumper off in his bed, which ultimately led to more. The very same more that was now a very real reality for him. It was all very exciting…or maybe he was just simply excited because she was taking her shirt off. Whichever...

He ran his hands down sides of her body until he came to where bare skin met the cusps of her pants. He hooked his thumbs into the inside of them as they continued kissing. He'd been lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't thinking of a hundred and one ways to get her out of these and everything else she was wearing, but as it were, she always seemed a little hesitant when it came to removing much more than where they were at. The one time he had tried—a few days earlier—he had felt her tense up, so he had stopped. He didn't want to push her to a place she wasn't ready to go to yet, and he had to keep reminding himself that her experience, while it wasn't non existent, was certainly limited. She'd never had sex, so he knew when and if they did do it, he would be her first. Knowing Victoire as well as he did, he knew that that wasn't something she was going to go into without putting in serious consideration into; it wasn't something she would throw herself into blindly.

On top of everything else, even though he tended forget in the heat of the moment, they'd only been together for a little over two weeks. They may have been worlds ahead in some parts of their relationship, but that didn't mean they had to rush the other parts to catch up. No matter how much he sometimes wanted to…

Victoire abruptly pulled away from his face and sat up so that she was straddling him at his waist. She pushed her hair back off her face and pulled up the strap of her bra that had lazily fallen down the length of her arm. "How fast do you want things to move?"

He stared at her, immediately missing how close she had been a few seconds before and somewhat confused by the question. "Sorry?"

"I just want to know where your head is at," she asked. "In terms of when you think we should…" She pushed her hair back again. "It's just, all of this sex talk has me thinking."

He blinked. "Really?"

"Well, it seems you've got no hang-ups about it, and you clearly want to have it."

"Why do you say 'clearly'?"

She glanced down to where she was currently sitting on top of him and, no doubt, could feel the now present budge through his pants. "I'd say that's a pretty clear signal."

He grinned at little. "In my defense, that doesn't always mean I want to have sex. Though, it generally is a good indicator."

She bit her lip and looked away. "It's just," she made a face, "it's a big step since I've never..." She sighed. "I sound so young."

"No, you don't."

She looked back at him and laughed a little. "That's sort of another reason your one night stand revelation shocked me a little because, I mean, you're obviously more experienced."

"Two people aren't a lot."

"Yeah, but you've been there and back probably loads of times, and you're comfortable enough doing it with some random girl without running a million different questions through your head like I am."

"What kind of questions do you have?"

"Are we going to fast?" she said before rattling off several more. "When will I know I want to do it? What happens when we do? What changes between us? What changes for me? Are you annoyed we're not already doing it—? "

"No," he said flatly. "To the last one, the answer is no. I can't answer the other ones, but I can say, for a fact, that the absolute last thing I am is annoyed."

"It's just a little intimidating," she said as she positioned herself so that she could lie down and look him in the eye. "I've never even thought about it with the other guys I've been with. It wasn't even an issue. But with you…" Her eyes flickered away from his for a second. "Let's not kid ourselves, we're probably going to do this at some point."

He smiled a little and reached out to run his fingers through her hair.

"I mean, honestly, Ted, I'm probably going to see you naked, which, if you have told me even six months ago that I'd be sitting here anticipating what you look like naked…" She blushed a little and shook her head. "I don't even know. It's just a bit mad."

"You don't have to anticipate anything," he said as he smile grew playful. "I'll get naked right now if that'll ease your mind."

She laughed, which made him laugh. "See," she began, "this is what I'm talking about. You're so relaxed about these things and I'm making this into a huge issue—"

"I'm relaxed because it's you," he said frankly. "I feel comfortable around you. And here's the thing—here's all you need to know. We'll take things one day at time. When things fall into place and we're ready, it'll happen. And it'll be spectacular."

She grinned. "Spectacular? Oh, really?"

He made a face as though he'd never been surer of anything in his life. "Absolutely."

"Well, I'm glad you're so sure," she said before she leaned forward to kiss him, though she stopped just before she did. "But, enough talking, we've got maybe an hour before I have to be home, so," she kissed him again, "where were we?"

"Well," he said, pulling her as close as he could, "you we telling me how you wanted to see me naked. I think we should address that some more."


	5. Stupid Quills

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!! You guys are awesome :) Only one chapter today since I don't want to leave you all on a cliffhanger ;)

* * *

On a lazy afternoon, the day before she was set to return to school, Victoire stood at the front counter of Flourish and Blotts scanning her book list. "_Advanced Potions for N.E.W.T Level_", "_Advanced Transfiguration_," "_Advanced Herbology_," "Y_ear Seven Charms,_" and "_An Expert's Guide to Runes Translations_." What on earth had possessed her take five subjects at the N.E.W.T level?

"Don't forget to pick up _Advanced Nerdy Loser_," said Dominique as she glanced over Victoire's shoulder to read her list.

"Do me a favor," Victoire mumbled. "Pick me up a copy on your way back from grabbing _How to be a Super Bitch_."

"She's already got a copy," said Louis from the spot where he was leaning against the counter on Dominique's opposite side.

"Actually, I have two," Dominique joked. "I let Victoire borrow the other copy ages ago, but it seems she's just now started reading it."

Victoire threw her a tired look, which Dominique returned with a smug smile right as the bookshop keeper rejoined them at the counter; now with several stacks of books in his hands.

"Here we go," said the man as he glanced over the list in his hand. "These are yours," he gave Victoire a polite smile and pushed several books towards her. "And as for you two…" He placed a copy of a sixth-year Charms book, an Arthimancy book, a Care of Magical Creatures book, and Transfiguration book down. "That's it, I believe?"

"That would be it," Louis said before he grabbed at the stack of books.

The man began to ring them up, and Victoire watched as her books totaled up to more than both Louis and Dominique's combined. This was mostly in part due to the fact that she always needed new books, whereas Louis and Dominique got to divvy up her old books between the two of them before they bought anything new. As it was, Louis was getting her old Potions book and Dominique was getting her old…everything else.

As per the rule, whoever got the better marks got the new books, and Louis always tended to edge Dominique out when it came to marks. He'd gotten nine O.W.L.s and scored 'O' in six of them—beating even Victoire's five, which had surprised everyone. Dominique had managed a respectable five O.W.L.s; only one of which was 'O' level. Given that they came from a family with very high academic expectations, needless to say their parents weren't especially excited with that, but Dominique didn't seem to care. She claimed she'd done well enough.

Victoire glanced at her sister's portion of the book share. "My, what a rigorous academic schedule you have planned."

"I'm taking four classes," she said. "That's one more than I wanted to take, but Mum and Dad said I had to take four. That's better than a lot of people."

"Louis's got five."

"Louis's cleverer than I am," she said bluntly. "This is no secret."

"It's really not," said Louis as he paid the man with the money their mother had given them earlier that day to go buy new supplies with. When he'd finished, Victoire grabbed at her bag and, with a heavy grunt, lifted it off the ground. There were so many books. This bag had to weigh more than she did.

"Here," Louis offered after Victoire had managed to lug her bag outside to the street. "Switch with me." He held out his bag. "I promise you it's lighter."

Victoire dropped her bag down on the street with a thump. "Since when did you learn any manners?"

He smirked and handed her his bag. "I picked some up somewhere."

Dominique leaned over to pick up Victoire's bag, as if testing it for herself. "Oh, it's not even that heavy, Vic."

"You can carry it, then," said Louis, holding it out for her.

She thrust the bag back at her brother. "No. You're the boy. You do the heavy lifting."

Victoire grinned, watching as Louis picked the heavier of the bags up and then glanced up and down the street. "Okay, what else do we need?"

Victoire quickly ran a checklist through her head. She'd gotten her books, her parchment and quills, her supplies from the apothecary…that was everything. "I think I'm done."

"I know I am," Dominique said.

"I need new robes," Louis said, gesturing in the direction of Madame Malkin's Robe Shop. "I shot up a lot last year. My old robes are way too short."

Dominique nodded and stared down the street, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "So go get them."

"You two aren't coming?"

"Why would we come watch you try on robes?" Victoire asked.

"What else are you going to do?"

Dominique shrugged. "Something else. Anything else."

"We can go get ice cream," Victoire suggested.

"Oooh!" she said. "Yes, let's do that!"

Louis frowned instantly. "You're going to go get ice cream without me?"

The girls glanced at each other and nodded before replying, "Yes."

"That's shit," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and looking down the street for himself. He was quiet for a long second. "I want ice cream."

"Well, you'll know where to find us," Dominique said with a small flicker of a wave. "Enjoy robe fittings."

Louis visibly pouted for a second longer. After realizing he couldn't win this, he begrudgingly turned and walked in the opposite direction towards the robe shop. Victoire could hear him mumbling something as he went, but she ignored it and instead turned to her sister.

"That's what he gets for growing," she joked. "If he had just stayed short like we did…"

Dominique snorted a laugh before the two started their own walk down the crowded street and towards the ice cream parlor; their bags lugging behind them. It was particularly sunny out today, making for an almost perfect summer afternoon. It very well would have been a perfect summer day if not for the fact that Victoire had to be back on a train to school the following morning. She wasn't looking forward to that. The thought alone was killing her mood.

"So, where does Ted live?" Dominique asked, staring up at the various buildings as they walked.

Victoire stopped right as they reached ice cream parlor and pointed straight ahead to one of the buildings that was just beyond them. "That one. The brick one."

Dominique followed her finger to where she was pointing. "He's not home, is he?"

"If he was home," she said as she sat down at an outside table at the parlor, "he'd probably be hanging out with us right now. He's at work."

Dominique took the seat across from her. "I cannot believe you went a month without anyone finding out about you two.

She smiled.

"I'm almost impressed," Dominique muttered, right before she was interrupted by an older man from the ice cream parlor who was looking to greet them and take their order. Both Victoire and Dominique ordered sundaes—both double checking that nothing in it came with coconut considering they were both terribly allergic to it—and sat back to people watch.

"There's Henry Davies," Victoire said as she noticed the dark-haired, athletic looking, Ravenclaw boy and what looked like his mother doing some school shopping. "That's the fourth person I've seen from school."

"Everyone's waiting until the last minute, it seems," Dominique said as she turned to absently watch Davies, her face growing annoyed the longer she stared. "You heard he got Ravenclaw Captain?"

"Someone had to since Stuart graduated."

"He'll make a rubbish Captain," she mumbled grumpily, "which is good considering Ravenclaw will all but fall apart now."

Victoire nodded slowly. Quidditch was Dominique's life and what she cared most about at school. She actually sounded a little bitter about the Captainship of Davies, though Victoire could only assume that had to do with the fact that Dominique considered herself a better player than he was, yet she hadn't gotten the coveted position of Captain herself for Gryffindor.

Durrin Adams—the former Gryffindor Captain—had graduated just this year, and everyone had been speculating that the vacant position would go to either Dominique or her friend and classmate, Jack Ians. It was a constant back and forth discussion as to who deserved it more; people couldn't decide one way or the other as to who should get it. Dominique was the loud and aggressive player, while Jack was level-headed and methodical. Both brought leadership skills to the table, but no one was sure who was more qualified.

However, everyone was silenced when—just three days ago—Jack had stopped by the house claiming he'd received the Captain's badge in the post with his Hogwarts's letter. Dominique had been promptly crushed, even though she hid it as well as she could; unfortunately, Dominique wasn't good at hiding things when she was upset. Victoire had actually felt genuinely terrible for her; particularly after Louis mentioned that if Dominique hadn't been suspended for the last year's final game—a suspension she received for sticking up for Victoire—the decision may have been very different.

"Want to hear something funny about Henry Davies?" Dominique asked, cutting into Victoire's thoughts.

"Sure."

"Well, not about him," she added, "but did you know that Mum went out with his father?"

Victoire's jaw dropped. "She did not!"

"I swear!" Dominique said. "I was telling her about how he'd made Captain for Ravenclaw, and she mentioned that when she came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Championship, some guy named Davies was her date for the big ball they had. We deduced afterwards it was probably his father since I described Davies to her and she said they sounded awfully similar."

Victoire couldn't help but laugh. "Henry Davies's father?"

She nodded. "She said something about how at the time he was one of the few acceptable boys around. She then said something like—" Dominique put on a French accent "—''Ogwarts 'ad so few attractive boys zen.'" She returned to her normal speaking voice. "Of course, I immediately told her that it still doesn't have any attractive boys and that nothing's changed in twenty years."

"That is the funniest thing I've ever heard," Victoire said as she thought about her mother being with anyone besides her father, let alone some random Hogwarts's boy or the father of someone she knew.

"I know," Dominique said. "And Davies's father of all people." She made another face. "I can't stand him. He's such a prat."

"Henry? He's not that bad," Victoire said. "He's always been nice to me."

"Well, of course he's nice to _you_," Dominique said in a sarcastic sort of way. "You don't see him out on the Quidditch pitch. He talks so much rubbish, it's ridiculous."

Victoire shook her head as their sundaes arrived at that very moment. "I have a hard time believing you don't talk just as much."

"I'm not saying I don't." She dug into her sundae. "I have to, what with all those cocky arses out there thinking they're they best thing since Merlin himself. I have to hold my own, you know?"

Victoire rolled her eyes and pushed the cherry in her sundae off to the side. She couldn't stand the taste of cherries, but always forgot to tell them to not put them on her ice cream.

"So, I take it you're going out with Ted tonight."

"I don't think we're going out," Victoire said as she took a bite. "He's got his presentation tomorrow for work, which is really huge. I don't know what we're going to do. I'm just planning on going over there for a few hours and saying my goodbyes." She shrugged. "I don't know how busy he'll be."

"Awww," Dominique teased. "You're going to miss him."

"Of course I'm going to miss him," she said obviously. "I'm not going to get to see my boyfriend for almost four months. That's crap."

Dominique smiled a little, though her eyes settled on something just over Victoire's shoulder. "Speak of the devil…"

"What?" Victoire asked, turning around in her chair to see what Dominique was staring at. Just beyond them, heading towards his building, was Ted—his blue hair clearly visible against the crowd of other people.

She smiled immediately before glancing back at Dominique.

"Does he just appear when you say his name?"

"I wish this was always the case," Victoire said before she stood, pushed her chair back, and turned to set after him through the crowd. She took off at a slight jog in the hopes that she would catch him with time to spare, but quickly called out, "Ted!" once she realized he was seconds away from disappearing inside his building.

Ted stopped and turned around, seemingly surprised to hear his name. He expression grew even more surprised when he saw her approaching. "Hey."

"Hey," she said, smiling at him. "You're home early."

"Just for a second," he said, gesturing to his building. "On a little break. I left some files and potion samples here last night, so I just came back to get them. Were you waiting for me?"

Victoire shook her head. "I'm shopping for school with Nic and Lou." She pointed behind her towards the ice cream parlor. "I just spotted you, so I thought I'd come say hi."

He smiled. "Well, hi."

"Hi," she said before she walked over to hug him. "How's your day going?"

He made a face. "It's dragon pox-tastic. I've still got a load of work to do before I can officially leave for the day, and I don't know how long it'll take me to finish."

"Oh," Victoire said, her face falling slightly. "I was just going to see if you had a few minutes to hang out for a bit."

He glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the ice cream parlor, seemingly pondering her request. "You know, I can spare a few minutes."

"If you're busy, Ted, go back work," said Victoire. "Don't knock off on account of me. I want you to finish early so I can come over."

"It's five minutes," he said, taking a step towards the ice cream parlor. "I could use the break."

"Ted…"

"Vic…"

She shot him an exasperated look.

"You coming or not?" he asked, throwing her a smile as he continued walking towards the ice cream parlor.

"Ugg," she muttered, giving up and following after him. "Fine, but this better not cut into my time later."

"Just don't let me get too distracted."

"I won't," she said matter-of-factly. "I've claimed your time for this evening."

"And I'd much rather it be you than dragon pox I'm concentrating on," he said as they approached the table where Dominique was still sitting. "Needless to say, I find studying you far more interesting—"

Dominique stuck her fingers in her ears. "Please save that rubbish for when I'm not around."

Victoire and Ted exchanged amused smiles as they sat, but not before Ted began playfully tapping Dominique repeatedly in the shoulder—using her own very annoying greeting habit against her. "What's up, Nicki?" he said, tapping her shoulder four or five times.

She threw him an annoyed look. "That's annoying."

"You don't say," Ted said obviously.

Victoire laughed.

"It's far less annoying when I do it," Dominique said as she made no attempt to disguise moving her chair away from him.

"I'm not so sure about that," said Victoire.

Dominique ignored her and instead gestured to her ice cream. "You better eat yours fast, Vic. It's melting."

Looking down, Victoire saw that sundae did happen to be melting rather quickly now that she noticed. She glanced at Ted. "You want some?"

He shook his head, though he did pick off her discarded cherry and pop it in his mouth. "I don't know why you hate these."

"Because they're vile," she said with a small smile.

Dominique made a small noise as if to signal she found the two of them even smiling at each other too much for her to stomach.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Is that really necessary?"

"Nicki giving her opinion is _always _necessary," Ted joked.

"I have a question for you two," Dominique said, ignoring him.

They both stared at her.

"When do you plan on coming out about everything?"

Victoire looked at Ted, who shrugged. She glanced back at her sister. "I figured Christmas time at the latest."

Dominique gawked at her. "Christmas time? You've got to be joking."

"Don't think we don't appreciate your cooperation," said Ted.

"When it comes out, it comes out," Victoire said heavily. "I'm not planning on making a formal announcement."

"I was," Ted said with a smile.

"I'm not keeping it a secret when we get back to school," Dominique said matter-of-factly. "If someone asks about your boyfriend, or anything along those lines—and they will, since everyone wants to know what Victoire Weasley is up to—I'm saying something."

"I'm all for that," Ted joked. "Especially if any of the really good looking blokes ask. In fact, they should be the first to know."

Victoire swatted him in the arm without looking. She was still considering what her sister had said as she pushed her spoon around in her dish. "You can tell people when we get to school."

"Even Louis."

"You can tell Louis," Victoire said, "just as long as we're at school."

"Speaking of Lou," Ted said as he looked around, "where is he?"

"Off getting his robes," Victoire said, pointing the direction of the robe shop with her spoon. As she did, she noticed Henry Davies and his mother walking back in their direction. She smiled at Dominique. "Oh, Nic, your favorite person is coming back this way."

Dominique didn't turn around, but simply made a face. "That could be so many people."

"Perhaps you should stop making so many enemies," Victoire suggested.

"You have enemies?" Ted asked.

"'Enemies' is a poor way of phrasing it," she said before she turned around in her chair to see who Victoire was talking about. "I just have a lot of people I don't like."

"That can't be healthy," Ted said.

"Don't think you're not one of them," she countered.

"Ouch," said Ted, glancing at Victoire. She smiled a little before reaching over and patting his leg to offer faux sympathy.

"Oh, and look," Dominique said, pointing towards where Davies now was. "He's with Liam Brighton." She turned back around. "It's like wanker, arse-faced morons on parade."

"Isn't she eloquent?" Victoire asked Ted.

"I've been out of school a year and I have no idea who these people are," Ted said as he looked to where the Dominique was watching. "Though, by the sounds of things, I don't know if I want to."

"You don't," Dominique said. "They're all idiots."

"Nicki has an issue with everyone," Victoire said. "Everyone's a bitch, or a prat, or a wanker, arse-face—"

"Not true," she said quickly. "There are plenty of people I like."

"Who?" Victoire asked. "Name people besides your friends? Tell me anyone besides Sarah and Eleanor."

Dominique took a long moment to consider this. "I like most of Louis's friends. I like most of your friends now that the bitchy slags are gone."

"I'll agree with that," Ted said.

"I like everyone in my year in Gryffindor besides Natalie Young, and I'm even coming around on her a little. I like people."

"But not me," Ted said.

"You know I was kidding," she said in a bored tone. "You're like my brother." She stopped and slowly began to smile a little. "Which, I guess, if you two got married, that would make that official, wouldn't it?"

Victoire took a heavy breath. Did she really have to go there? Bringing up marriage of all topics? Any other awkward topics she wanted bridge just weeks into she and Ted's relationship while she was at it?

Dominique laughed. "How weird would that be if you two got married? Have you even thought about that?"

"Not really, considering we've only been together for less than a month," Victoire said as she glared at her sister. She really knew how to push buttons, didn't she?

"I'm kidding, Vic," she said quickly, noticing her sister's stare. "See, this is the thing. People don't understand my sense of humor."

"Probably because it's rarely funny," Victoire mumbled, just as someone dropped a bag down on their table. When she glanced up, she saw Louis standing there and accompanied by the sudden presence of Sarah Kirke.

"What's up," Louis said, noticing Ted. He glanced at Dominique before gesturing to Sarah. "Look who I found."

"Hey! I thought you did all your shopping the other day?" Dominique said to Sarah before she started rummaging through the bag Louis had dropped on the table.

"I had a few last minute things I needed to get," Sarah said before she glanced at Louis, "then I ran into him, and he said you were all over here finishing up, so I thought I'd come say hi."

"I should go," Ted said to Victoire, causing her to tune out her siblings' conversation and focus on him. "What time do you think you're coming over tonight?"

"What time do you think you'll be done?"

He checked his watch. "It's a little after one o'clock now, so…" he looked as if he was doing math in his head, "how about you come over about six? That should be safe."

She smiled and nodded. "Six it is."

He smiled as he stood and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "I'll see you later." He looked at everyone else. "Bye, all. Good luck at school."

"See you later," Dominique said as Louis gave him a quick nod and returned to their conversation with Sarah.

Victoire watched as he took a few steps away, but hastily stopped and turned back around. "Oh, right, one more thing."

She looked up at him just as he chanced a glance at Louis, leaned down towards her, and lowered his voice so even she could barely hear him. "I love you."

She smiled. "You too."

He waved this time, and Victoire watched as he actually did set back off towards his flat. It wasn't until he disappeared from view that she turned back around in her seat to face forward.

Why did his stupid presentation have to be tomorrow? More than anything, she wished that that could have been on a different day. This was five hours that they could have had together and he was busy pouring over patient reports while she shopped for stupid new quills. Stupid quills…

"I'm getting ice cream," Victoire heard Louis say once she turned back into the other conversation in front of her. "Don't think I'm not just because you two already went and had some."

"So, go get some," Dominique said to him before glancing back at Sarah. "Are you running off, Sarah?"

"I can stay for a bit," she said as she pushed her fair hair out of her face. "I have to pack, but I've got plenty of time to do that."

"You want some ice cream?" Louis asked her.

She shook head. "I just brought enough money with me to buy these." She held up a bag from the apothecary. "I couldn't if I wanted to."

"On me," Louis offered.

Victoire's jaw dropped. "Who are you and where is my brother?"

"Seriously," Dominique agreed.

"What?" he asked, looking confused.

Victoire looked at her sister. "First, he's offering to carry my stuff and now he's being nice and offering to buy people ice cream." She looked back him. "Louis, you're almost charming."

"I'm always charming," he said with a quick smile. "Ask anyone."

"And modest to boot …" said Dominique.

Victoire leaned forward to see around her brother and catch Sarah's eye. "Sarah's a neutral party here. She can tell us if perhaps we," she gestured in between her sister and her, "are just biased. So, Sarah, would you claim Louis is charming, yes or no?"

All three sets of eyes that belonged to a Weasley settled on Sarah, who looked surprised to be put on the spot as she had. She glanced between Dominique and Louis. "Well, Louis offered to buy me ice cream, so," she shrugged, "I'll say he's charming."

"Ha!" he said smugly to both Victoire and Dominique. He smiled at Sarah. "Thank you. Excellent answer."

"Yeah, a real charmer," Dominique muttered before casting Sarah a skeptical look. "Whose side are you on?"

"Were you going to buy me ice cream?"

Dominique and Victoire exchanged looks, both saying that they couldn't exactly fault her for that logic. It was free ice cream, after all.


	6. Smoke and Steam

A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews :) Some of you come up with some great theories! Here's hoping you pick up on some of the other clues throughout the story. That being said, this is the first chapter where there's a duel version available over at my journal. I told you all I would let you know, so that's what I'm doing. Again, remember, the stories are the same, just some little differences in various chapters. :)

* * *

Alone in her room, Victoire dropped the lid of her school trunk and listened as it snapped shut. She bent over to bolt the latches, making sure the trunk was definitely fastened before kicking it for good measure. It looked secure and ready for the long haul up to Hogwarts. That was it, then. She'd finished packing. The last time she'd ever have to pack up her things for the first day of school. The more she considered that, the more she realized that that was a rather sad thought. With all the dreading she'd been doing about having to leave Ted for months at a time, she hadn't really faced what was now in store for her.

Seventh year. That meant all of the people who had caused her drama in the past would be gone. Colleen Lynch, Penelope Shears—they were a thing of the past. All of the boys she'd spent time worrying about or contemplating where their heads were at one point or another had also graduated. As it looked, her year was looking as if it would be completely dedicated to school.

Her eyebrow involuntary rose at that thought. If she and Ted stayed as great as they were; if Whit remained as rational and fun to be around as she always was; if she had no other issues with anyone else at school, then she was looking at a completely drama free year. She hadn't had one of those since…

"Second year," she mumbled to herself. What on earth was she going to do with herself?

There was a sudden knock at her door that caused her to snap out of her thoughts. "It's open."

The door opened, and behind it, a familiar head of brown, straight, shoulder-length hair appeared with the smiling face of Jane Whitters attached to it. She looked a little sun burnt, though still cheerful, and waved as she entered. "Surprise."

"Whit!" Victoire's face lit up. "What are you…? You're back!"

"I am," Whit said before rushing over to hug her. "Yeah, I just got back yesterday night. I've spent my day running around and trying to get everything in order for school tomorrow." She pointed back behind her and out into the hallway. "Jack had wanted to come over and talk to your brother, so I tagged along. Thought I'd come say hi."

Victoire beamed. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. You're not allowed to go on holiday ever again. It's official. I've decided."

"You were in France for double the time I was away," Whit laughed as she went and plopped onto Victoire's bed.

"Too late," she smiled, "I've made my decision. You have no say."

Whit shook her head, but still smiled. "You're packing, then?"

"Just finished. I wanted to make sure I was completely ready to go before I went out tonight."  
"With Ted?"

She smiled.

"And how are things with Ted?" Whit asked, glancing back at her. "I'm sure he kept you busy."

Victoire sat on the top of her trunk, but was already fighting a losing battle with trying not to smile. She let out a happy sigh. "Things are…really great."

"Yeah?" asked Whit, matching her smile.

She nodded and continued smiling. "Better than I could have thought they'd be." She slowly began to frown. "And now I have to go back to school."

Whit forced a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah…" she murmured, grabbing at the ends of her hair and absently started examining them. "I was just thinking about how drama free this year is going to be what with everyone I don't like being gone."

"I'd say that's something to look forward to," Whit offered.

"It'll be different," said Victoire as she looked out the window. "I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself."

"Pass your N.E.W.T.s with the highest marks possible."

"I'd better," she said with a quick laugh. "I'm going to have nothing better to do."

"We'll have fun this year." said Whit.

"Oh, I know," Victoire said quickly before she stood up from her trunk and walked to her bed to sit beside her. "It's not as if I'm worried, it's just…I don't know." She sighed. "But anyway, enough about me. How was your holiday? I want to hear all about it."

Whit sat up straighter and rather excitedly began recalling every detail of the last two weeks that she'd spent in the Bahamas. She seemed exceptionally happy about her trip and was all too excited to tell someone else about everything she'd seen and done while she was away. She was even thrilled to share the part where she claimed to have been bitten by some horrible sounding fish with sharp teeth.

"I think I'll have a little scar," Whit said as she showed Victoire the spot on her arm where she'd been bitten.

"And you went back in the water after that thing bit you?"

"Well, yeah," she said obviously. "I wasn't going to pass on the chance to swim in that gorgeous ocean. It was crystal blue."

Victoire stared at her, but laughed as she looked away. "You're much braver than I would have been."

"I had to be put in Gryffindor for some reason," she joked.

Victoire laughed and stretched her legs in the air, grabbing them by the ankles in order to stretch them as far as possible. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Quarter to six," Whit said. "What time are you meeting Ted?"

"Six."

"Do you have big plans?"

"I suppose we do," she shrugged. "He's got this thing at work tomorrow, so we thought we'd stay in and just enjoy our last night."

Whit smiled a little. "Wow, four months would be hard, especially since you've just gotten together."

She nodded lamely.

"I mean, I was gone for two weeks and I missed Jack like mad. I don't know how I'd manage four months."

"Turn the knife a little bit further, why don't you?"

Whit made an amused noise. "I'm sorry."

Victoire sighed and sat up on the bed, glancing at her closet. She should probably change before she headed over to Ted's, but she never knew what to wear when it came to just lounging around with him. Most of her clothes he claimed were "too nice" for when they sat around. The way he made it sound, she all but lived in dress robes, but this wasn't the case. They were just on complete opposite sides of the fashion spectrum. She took care of her clothes and took pride in looking nice and put together, whereas he…didn't seem to care. Not that this was something she'd recently discovered, of course. She known this about him since they were small, but it certainly made trying to figure out what to wear in these situations a royal pain.

"Did you hear Jack made Quidditch Captain?" Whit asked, right as Victoire finally stood to walk to her closet.

Victoire turned and threw her a funny smile before she began pulling several items of clothing out to examine them. "Nicki was upset."

"Was she?" Whit asked, sounding surprised. "When I asked Jack if she knew, he claimed she took it really well."

"Yeah, to his face she smiled and congratulated him," Victoire said as she held up one shirt. "And truth be told, deep down, I'm sure she's happy it's him and not someone else, but…"

"She really wanted it, too?"

She nodded, but quickly looked back at Whit. "Too? I wasn't aware Jack really wanted it?"

"Oh, he did," she murmured. "His mum said when he got the badge he literally jumped up and down."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," Whit said. "And it was one of the first things he said to me when I saw him for the first time after getting back." She made a funny face. "In fact, his actual words were, 'Hi! You're back! I'm Quidditch Captain!' All in one quick breath before he'd even managed to hug me."

Victoire laughed and turned back to her closet. "When he told us, he made it seem like it was no big deal at all." She shrugged. "I guess both he and Dominique were putting on a bit of a show."

"He's definitely excited about it," Whit said lazily. "It's good, I guess. I mean, I'll be really busy this year with N.E.W.T.s, so at least it'll keep him occupied."

Victoire nodded as she held up two shirts—a purple and a blue one. "Which one should I wear?"

Whit eyed them both. "The blue one. It'll make your eyes stand out."

She nodded as if she agreed, but still hesitated. "True, but the purple makes my boobs stand out," she glanced at her chest, "which, let's face it, I need all the help I can get there."

Whit rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, your chest is perfectly proportional to the rest of your body."

"Yes, but my proportions are small," she said obviously, gesturing up and down herself. "I'm small everywhere." She pointed to her chest. "Everywhere."

"How you manage to find flaws is beyond me," Whit muttered. "Honestly, any time I feel cruddy or blah, I just tell myself, 'You know, Jane, it's probably all in your head, because if Victoire can somehow manage to find _something_ wrong with her, then you know everyone has these sorts of days…"

"Ha-ha," Victoire mumbled before she glanced between the blue and the purple. She narrowed her eyes in concentration. Which one should she pick? Wearing blue did tend to make her eyes look nice, but drawing attention to her chest and looking a little sexy was also something that sounded appealing at the moment. Even though, she knew no matter what shirt she wore, one way or another, her chest would end up getting attention.

"Boobs or eyes…" Whit said, as though attempting to add to Victoire's train of thought. "Which one do you want to accentuate more?"

She sighed. "It's not like it really matters."

"Because it'll end up off at some point anyway?"

Victoire grinned a little.

Whit shrugged. "So, which one matches his rug? Might as well have it match that since it'll spend most of its time there."

Victoire's jaw dropped, but she couldn't help but laugh. "Whit!"

"Am I wrong?"

Victoire was silent for a long moment before she turned to hang the blue shirt back up. "No. I'm just…" she held up the purple one and examined it, "surprised you actually said it." She gestured to the shirt in her hand. "I've made my decision."

"I'm sure Ted will be happier for it."

Victoire quickly proceed to change her shirt and straighten herself out in the mirror. She reached out for her hairbrush and began absently brushing her hair out in a precise manner, piece by piece as she always did. She noticed that the light blonde highlights she's attained from hours and hours spent in the sun while in France were fading completely now, just as her tan had. Her hair was back to the strawberry blonde color she was accustomed to, and her skin was back to looking pasty and white; just in time for school.

She turned to face Whit and made a gesture to herself, as if silently asking how she looked.

"Lovely," Whit said from the bed.

"You don't think I look too dressed up?"

She shook her head. "You look normal."

Victoire nodded as she stared at herself in the mirror once more. She let out a very heavy breath. "All right, then." She turned back around to Whit, forcing a small smile. "I'm ready to go."

Whit sat up and threw her an encouraging smile. "You seem sad."

"I am, but that's just because I know I'll have to say bye to him tonight." She looked away. "And I don't want to do that."

"Don't think about that," Whit said as she also stood. "Just enjoy yourself."

"Still," she said. "I can't help but remind myself."

"I know." Whit nodded before she pulled open Victoire's bedroom door and walked first out into the hallway. "I'm going to go and see what they're—" she pointed towards Louis's room, where he and Jack most likely were "—up to, but I'll see you first thing tomorrow."

"Eleven o'clock on the train," Victoire muttered, taking the first few stairs that lead down to the bottom level. "Wouldn't miss it."

"You can't afford to miss it," Whit joked. "But have fun."

Victoire threw her one last smile before making her way down the rest of stairs, stopping just as she reached the living room. Her father was sitting on the sofa with the Wireless playing nearby; the all too familiar tunes of the Weird Sisters emitting from it. He looked hard at work, reading several pieces of parchment spread out over the coffee table in front of him. Currently, he was examining one in particular quite closely. He didn't seem to notice her standing at the entrance way.

"Hey, Dad?"

He looked up at her. His expression quickly turned curious once he noticed she was dressed to leave. "Are you going somewhere?"

She nodded. "Just for a few hours."

"Where?"

She stepped into the living room. "Ted's."

He hummed a little and glanced back down at the document in front of him. He seemed preoccupied, which could either be a good or a bad thing. The lack of questions and jokes as to why she was, yet again, spending another night with Ted was a plus, though, he could easily be busy and in too poor of a mood to care. If was in too poor of a mood, he may not see the point in her going out tonight. He might tell her she couldn't go. This was something she didn't want to leave to chance.

"Mum said I could," she added, which was the truth. She had made sure to clear it with her mother days ago that she could go out tonight on the condition that she was home by ten o'clock. At the time, Victoire had also counted on her mother being here to back up this claim; not working late at the bank.

"Did she?" he asked without looking up from his paper.

Victoire nodded. "She did."

"Are you all packed?"

She nodded again. "I am."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

He hummed again. "All right. Don't stay out late."

"I won't," she said as she watched him absently continue to read for a few moments longer. It was then that she was struck with a small, odd pang in the pit of her stomach. For the first time since she and Ted had gotten together, she wished she hadn't made a point of lying about this for the last month. Her parents trusted her, and here she was breaking that trust by lying to them about how she was spending her time over and over again.

Perhaps she was overestimating the way they would react. Standing here now, it seemed like a rather stupid thing to lie about; particularly because of how much she really did care about Ted. Her parents probably would have been able to see that, but the lying and sneaking around wasn't going to help them to understand. It was just going to make them angry. It was probably going to blow up in her face. Why had she decided to keep this a secret again? She couldn't even remember.

"Dad?"

He looked up at her again. His face was tired, but he was starting at her expectantly. She should say something, but she realized that if she did, he might get mad and tell her she couldn't go see Ted tonight. As much as she wanted to come clean—and as much as she knew she should—if she was going to suffer the angry fallout of her parents one way or another, she might as well get one last hurrah out of things.

She smiled a little. "I just wanted to say I love you."

"I love you, too, Vic," he said as his tired expression gave way to a weary smile. "I'm serious though, not too late."

"I promised Mum I'd be home by ten," she said before turning to leave. "I'll be home by nine fifty-nine. I promise."

"Sounds good."

"I'll see you later," she said, hesitating for just a moment to glance back at him before she exited the living room.

She did a quick mental check to make sure she'd done everything she'd needed to do before leave; upon realizing she had, she quickly Apparated on the spot and found herself moments later right outside of Ted's front door. Out of habit, she hastily straightened her hair and clothes out before taking a quick second to stare at the front of his door.

She knocked once and stepped back. Thirty second passed with no response, so she knocked again. Another thirty seconds passed and still no response. She made a face. Was he not home? She glanced at the door knob and felt inclined to try turning it. Ted never left his door open, but—

It clicked open, and the door pushed itself inwards several inches. She reached out and pushed it open further. "Ted?" she called out from the threshold.

There was no reply.

She let herself walk in further and noticed that the living room was empty, but the sound of running water from the adjoining bedroom clearly signaled that he was home. He was showering. She checked the clock on the wall and saw that she was right on time. Ted was probably rushing to catch up.

With a glance across the room, she walked towards his work bench, where stacks and stacks of parchment, folders, and files covered the entire space. It looked as if he'd spent a fair amount of time behind his desk lately, what with the broken quills, crumbled pieces of paper, discarded butterbeer bottles, and at least seven or eight chocolate frog wrappers lying about. She couldn't help but smile a little as she observed the mess. She'd never known anyone over the age of ten who ate chocolate frogs quite like Ted did. She was convinced he could live off of them—something he didn't exactly deny. He always joked that there was a reason James, Albus, and Lily's wizard card collections were some of the largest ones around.

She sighed and continued to examine the various items on his workbench. Amongst the clutter, taking up a very small corner near the end, were several photos in frames that were propped up against the wall. Victoire had looked at these photos hundreds of times before, but it never stopped her from examining them again and again.

She scanned the first one, where Ted—looking no older than five or six—stood next to a smiling Harry. Beside that photo, a shot of a teenage looking Ted with his arm around his grandmother. Beside that, a photo of her cousins, James, Albus, and Lily—all looking a few years younger— were waving back at her.

Her eyes trailed to the last one; the photo she always found the most interesting. Ted as a baby with his parents—the only photo he had of three of them together. His mother, with her bright pink hair, was holding Ted, who was easily identifiable by his own turquoise hair. He was only weeks old and sleeping in his mother's arms while his father looked upon him fondly. It was equally one of the sweetest and most heartbreaking things Victoire had ever seen.

The sound of running water abruptly ceased, causing Victoire to briefly glance towards his room before returning to the photo in front of her. She smiled sadly at it as she picked it up, knowing that this was one of the few mementos Ted had to even prove his parents were real. She knew he had hundred of photos of his mother growing up, thanks in part to his grandmother; he had a handful of photos of his father, thanks to Harry; but he had practically none of his parents together other than the one she was currently holding. In fact, the only other photo Ted claimed to have ever seen of the two of them together was one where they sitting side by side at some sort of meeting; even then, his mother was being partially obstructed by a vase on a table.

But as Ted had always said, not a lot of happy photos were being taken when you spent most of your time hunting for dark wizards during a war. It was something she knew he didn't overtly dwell on, but deep down he obviously wished he had more than just one photo of his parents to remind him of them. It was only natural.

Ted's bedroom door suddenly opened, and Victoire looked up at to find Ted pulling his shirt on over his wet head. He smiled the second he noticed her, seemingly unsurprised to see her standing there.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said with slow smile before Ted walked over to kiss her hello. He smelled like soap and his face still felt damp and soft from the shower, which she liked. As she pulled away, she looked up at him. "You taste like peppermint."

"Well, I did brush my teeth just for you," he joked. "It was that time of the month." He looked down at the photo in her hand. "Are you looking at that again?"

She shrugged. "I really like this photo."

He grinned as he moved beside her to get a better look at the frame. "I do too." He glanced back at the other photos sitting on his work bench. "You know, I don't have any of us. How did that work out?"

"Neither of us own a camera."

"Yeah, but you have something like two hundred photos of us."

"In which we're about seven-years-old," she countered. "I have no recent ones."

"Still…" he said, shrugging and pointing towards his desk. "I need to get one."

Victoire took the moment to hold the photo of his parents up to his face. "So, I've come to realize that you look a lot like both of your parents."

"Oh, really?" he asked, sounding amused. "I usually just get people telling me I remind them of my dad."

She shook her head. "You've definitely got a lot of your dad in you, but," she pointed to the photo, "you've got your mum's smile. And her chin."

He grabbed at his chin as she said that "Yeah?"

She smiled up at him. "Well, I think so."

"That's definitely a new one," he said, clapping his hand together and taking a deep breath. "But, anyway, I'm glad you let yourself in." He turned and walked over to his sofa, where he picked up a lone folder that had been laying there and lobbed it haphazardly towards his desk. "I was sort of afraid you may have just stood there knocking, so I think I just took the quickest shower ever."

She followed him over towards the sofa. "Yeah, the door was open, so I let myself—"

She stopped once she came face to face with sofa and noticed a bouquet of flowers lying randomly on top of one of the cushions. Had she not been paying attention, she could have easily sat on them, though she assumed he'd put them there so she'd notice them when she did go to sit.

"Those are for you," he said obviously.

An immediate smile found itself plastered across her face as she picked up the bouquet and began examining the purple and yellow flowers within the paper wrapping. There was definitely something truly adorable about knowing that Ted had consciously gone and made the effort to pick these out. It seemed like something that—when they were friends—she would have had to tell him to do. Then again, that had been years ago. It was no secret that he'd done a lot of growing up from the clueless boy he'd been at fifteen.

"Wow," she said impressively, sitting down to examine them further. "I get flowers?"

Ted maneuvered his way around her in order to sit down on her opposite side. "I figured I might as well do something charming. For once."

"It is about time," she teased.

He smiled and slunk lazily into the sofa. "I'm working on it."

Victoire glanced down at him. "Well, it paid off," she kissed the top of his wet head, "because I think the gesture is quite charming." She pulled the flowers up to smell them. "I just don't know what I'm going to do with them since I can't take them home. Too many questions I would have to answer."

"Yeah, I thought about that after I bought them," he said, glancing up at her. "You can leave them here."

Victoire slowly started to frown at hearing that.

Ted laughed a little. "Don't worry. One day we won't have to have secret flowers. One day," his tone turned playful, "I can get you flowers that the _whole_ world can see."

She forced a small smile, but her mind was too busy thinking about why they hadn't bothered to tell anyone in the first place. She was actually starting to feel bad about it. This decision seemed to make much more sense a month ago.

"I don't even know why we kept this a secret," she mumbled.

"Because you wanted to, and I agreed with you?" he offered.

"I know," she said as she leaned forward to set the flowers down on the table, "but now I'm wondering why I wanted to."

"Because you didn't want your family making a big deal out of things before we even got a chance to spend any time together."

She shot him a look. "I'm being rhetorical, Ted."

"Oh," he said. "Why? Do you feel bad about it?"

"It's just," she suddenly leaned back on the sofa so that she and Ted were shoulder to shoulder, "I felt really bad when I told my dad I was coming over here tonight. I wasn't even lying, but I was lying, you know? He trusts me and I've just been…" She trailed off.

Ted didn't say anything right away, but reached out and gave her leg an encouraging squeeze. "I know, but your parents don't have to find out you've been lying to them."

"How won't they?" she asked. "A month seems doable, but once I'm back at school, somehow it'll get back to them. They'll start putting the pieces together. The last thing either of my parents are is dumb. They're not going to believe we randomly decided to get together while I was away at school."

"So, what's our story?" he asked, glancing at her. "I mean, if anything, I should be the one who's worried. I doubt your parents are going to turn up at school to get at you. They could easily find me."

"You act like they're going to hunt you down."

"Are they?" he asked, only half sounding as though he was kidding. "I've never seen your dad mad, but that doesn't mean I want to. I've seen Ginny mad, and I've seen your grandmother mad, and I've seen your Uncle Ron mad. You Weasleys can be scary when you want to be. That's not even taking into account your mum and her temper."

"It'll be me they're mad at," she said.

Ted sighed. "No, it'll probably be me they're mad at. With you, they'll most likely just be disappointed."

Something inside of Victoire's chest plummeted at hearing that. She hadn't thought about them being disappointed. That seemed worse than them being mad.

"What do we tell people?" she asked.

He shrugged. "If we can hold out until Christmas, then I say we just tell everyone then."

"And if we can't?"

"We can tell them the truth and hope they remember what it was like to be young and in love." He made a funny face. "They're not that old."

Victoire forced a laugh. "They may remember, but it doesn't mean they'll approve of the sneaking around."

"We'll just say it happened," he said. "We don't have to say when or where, but that it did. We'll tell them we're serious about things, and we can even tell them that we were afraid of everyone's reactions. We'll be honest, yet ambiguous."

"You really think my parents are going to let me scrape by with being ambiguous?"

He shrugged. "Well, I never had the awkward pleasure of lying to my parents and trying to cover my arse once they found out. So, I'm probably the last person to be giving advice on how to do it."

She groaned.

"Vic," he said seriously. "Things will work out. Your parents aren't going to disown you and the world won't end." He smiled. "And if it does, it'll end for the both of us, so we'll be in this together."

She leaned her head onto his shoulder, though the dread in her chest remained ever present. There was something comforting in hearing him say they were in this together, though. She had to admit that.

"It'll be okay," he added.

"I hope you're right," she said heavily before she sat up straighter once again. "But let's stop talking about this. I've only got until ten tonight and I want to enjoy the last few hours we get together. I certainly don't want to sit here being grumpy."

"You've only got until ten?" Ted asked, his tone more than sounding surprised. "Ten o'clock?"

"Someone's got a train to catch tomorrow," she said, looking up at him. "I didn't tell you the other day that I had to home by ten?"

His shook his head, his face filled with a mixture of shock and disappointment. "Are you serious? I didn't know we only had until ten."

She learned over and kissed him quickly. "Don't be grumpy. We'll just have to make the best of the time we do have."

He leaned his head back and stared blankly at the ceiling, the disappointment still evident on his face. "I cannot wait until you're on your own."

"I've got at least a year," she said, patting his leg affectionately before she stood from the sofa. "Might as well make the best of what we've been dealt at the moment."

"But seriously. Ten?"

"Would you have preferred them telling me I could stay home tonight?" she asked.

"I would have come over."

She laughed and held her hands up in front of her, as if mimicking a scale. "So, on one hand," she held up her left hand, "we can hang out here for less time, but do whatever we want. On the other," she held up her right, "we can hang out at the Maison de Weasley and spend our time pretending we're still just friends." She pretended to weigh both hands equally before letting her left hand dramatically drop.

Ted smiled. "Maison de Weasley?"

"It means—"

"I knew what it meant," he interjected. "My French is useless, but it's not _that _useless. I just think it's cute you randomly threw it in there."

She stared at him skeptically. "You've always hated, and I mean absolutely detested, when I've randomly started to speak French."

"No," he corrected before he also stood up, "I hate when you intentionally speak French with the purpose of making sure I don't know what you're saying. Otherwise, I actually like when you speak French."

Her expression remained doubtful. "Since when?"

"Since it became sort of sexy," he said, breezing past her on the way to the kitchen.

"Since when?" she repeated, watching him as he set about looking for something inside of his kitchen cupboards.

"I don't know," he smiled a little, "there's something mysterious and sexy about it. I can't explain it."

She gawked at him.

"I know, I know. But it's true."

"I never thought I'd see the day…" she trailed off, sounding amused as she followed him into the kitchen. She didn't say anything further until she pulled herself onto to the counter to sit. "I'm going to have to remember that."

"Just use it for good and not evil," he said right before he pulled out decent sized platter covered with some sort of foil. "Now, the important question is, how are you as a cook?"

"Rubbish."

"Yeah, me too," he said as he stared curiously as the foiled item. "And so is my Grams, for that matter. I told her I wanted to take a crack at making a semi-decent, real meal in order to impress," he smiled at her, "some girl."

She laughed.

"So, she gave me this," he gestured to the covered platter, "and told me to just heat it up."

"What is it?" Victoire asked as she reached out to pick up the foil and peek underneath.

"Chicken, I think," he said, examining it for himself. "Maybe turkey? I can't tell. She said most of the work is done, I just have to heat it up for a certain amount of time."

"How long?"

"Well, that's the thing," he made a face. "I don't remember. I was really tired when she was explaining it to me."

Victoire laughed and hopped off the counter. "Well, I can't cook worth a damn, but I think I'm not too bad a heating things up." She pointed her wand inside the small oven and set a charm to it that immediately lit a fire inside. She glanced back at Ted. "I guess we can just put it in and keep an eye on it?"

He shrugged, looking as if that was as good a plan as any. They placed the chicken-turkey inside of the oven and stepped back; both of them stared at it for a moment, as though expecting something immediate to happen. When nothing out of the ordinary did, they looked at each other.

"And now we wait," Ted said, walking straight out of the kitchen and making a beeline to his bedroom. "And while we wait, you can help me with something."

Victoire dawdled for a moment, still checking the oven for whether or not they were missing something. When she couldn't find anything, she turned and followed him towards his bedroom. Inside, he was already busy searching around in his wardrobe with his head buried somewhere inside of it. She stared at him curiously for a moment, but made her way to sit on the edge of his bed and watch him.

"I already know I'm probably asking for it by suggesting this," Ted said, his tone sounding forced.

"Asking for what?" she asked.

He pulled out three sets robes and tossed them idly onto the bed beside her. Victoire glanced at each of them before looking back him. He was staring her expectantly.

"I have to look especially nice for my presentation tomorrow," he said slowly, as though he was almost dreading what he was about to say. "Those are the nicest things I own."

Victoire gradually started to smile, the realization dawning on her. "Are you actually asking my advice about clothing?"

He begrudged weak a smile. "I know you like this sort of thing, so I thought maybe you could pick out which one I—"

She grinned widely.

"—looked best in."

Without a word, Victoire stood up and immediately went to work separating each robe from the other and placing them on them all neatly on the bed. She could hear Ted trying not to laugh from behind her, but as far as she was concerned, he could laugh all he wanted. He was giving her an opportunity to dress him up and make him look sharp; a chance to have a little fun with his clothes that didn't have frayed edges or date back to when he was sixteen. She didn't know if this opportunity would _ever_ come up again.

"I don't know why you enjoy this so much," he said.

"Clothes are a way of representing who you are," she said as she examined the blue robe he had chosen. "They can say a lot about you."

"Right…"

"I'm serious," she said, handing him the blue robe. "Try this one on. It's best if I can see it on you."

He made a face, though he reluctantly took it from her.

"I need to make an informed decision," she continued as she reached back down and picked up a grey robe. It still had the tags on it. "Have you ever even worn this?"

"I don't dress up very often," he said as he pulled his shirt over his head and started to undo the pants he was wearing. Victoire stopped and blinked for a second, taken slightly by surprise at the fact that he was just stripping off in front of her as casually as he was. She almost felt compelled to look away, since it seemed odd to just stare at him changing…but…she also didn't feel like doing that. She rather enjoyed seeing him standing their half naked; especially since—when she usually had him wearing this little—they were lying down and otherwise preoccupied. This time, she actually had a view. A view that made her mind go a little wild with possibilities. She'd yet to see him fully naked, but as she watched him standing there in his shorts—trying to distinguish the arm holes from the head hole on his robe—she had a sudden urge to do just that.

Ted pulled the robe over his head and fixed it so that it was on straight. He looked up at her for her opinion.

"It matches your hair," she said, looking him up and down.

"My hair would be brown," he said as his hair faded from blue to brown the moment he said it. "It has to be for work."

"Oh," she said obviously, nodding now that she got the full picture "I like it." She smiled. "You look very handsome. Very professional."

"Fantastic," he said dryly, immediately reaching to tug the robe off. "I'll wear this, then. Easy enough."

"Wait," she said as she reached down and grabbed the grey robe. "You have to try this one on, too."

He'd just worked the robe over his head, but stopped and let it fall back down so that only the top half his face was now poking out the hole. "No, I don't."

She laughed. "Oh, come on. Give me my moment, Ted."

Even with only his eyes visible, she could tell he was making a face. Still, without verbal complaint, he begrudgingly took the robe from her and pulled the one he was wearing off and over his head. She had just stood back to once again admire the view and the way the muscles in his arms tensed when he pulled the robe around, when a sudden strange smell invaded her nostrils.

"Do you smell that?" she asked as the smell of something burning became more and more apparent. "Is something bur— oh, crap!"

She immediately brushed past him and back out and into the kitchen, where black smoke was slowly billowing from the oven. Coughing a few times as she inhaled, she opened the oven, pulled out her wand, and immediately muttered "_Aguamenti_" as the smoke subsided and the hissing sound of fire being extinguished filled the room. Once she could actually see through the cloud that had materialize, a small charred bird sat sitting in the center of the oven. It was jet black.

"Shit…" she heard Ted say from behind her.

"We really are rubbish cooks," she said, glancing back at him. "I mean, all we had to do was heat it up."

Ted blinked a few times, though for whatever reason, Victoire suddenly found all of this rather funny. She started to smile, which quickly gave way to a fit of laughter. Her laughter only provoked Ted to laugh, though trying to laugh in a smoky kitchen proved to provide just as much coughing as it did laughing. She ducked across the room to open the window while Ted had grabbed a folder and was absently fanning smoke towards it.

"So much for dinner," Victoire mumbled after the two had spent the better part of an hour cleaning up and trying to fan the remaining smoke out the window in order to clear the flat.

"We can make sandwiches," Ted offered as he opened Auggie, his owl's, cage in order to let him stretch his wings and get away from the smoke. The snow owl stared at both Ted and Victoire suspiciously before he wasted no time in taking off through the open window.

She shrugged. "Better than nothing."

They set to work making sandwiches, all of which were eaten while both Ted and Victoire stood cramped in the small kitchen inspecting the smoky scene. Victoire sat on the counter and observed as Ted poked around in his oven trying to see if anything was damaged; the overwhelming smell of burnt chicken—or turkey, or whatever it was—and smoke surrounding them.

"Smells like burning," he mumbled as he turned around and faced her, leaning against the opposite counter in the tiny kitchen.

"It shouldn't be damaged," she said once she finished the last of her sandwich. "Your flat's going to smell like this for a few days, though. Have fun with that."

"Yeah, this wasn't part of the plan," he said as he chewed on the edge of his sandwich.

"It's not so bad," she said, smiling. "It's like an event. Dinner and a show."

Ted let out a heavy breath and stared at her with a semi-frustrated look on his face. The last thing she wanted him to be was frustrated right now. They were supposed to be having fun and enjoying their last night together for months, not brooding over a smoky oven.

She reached out from where she sat on the countertop and grabbed the front of his shirt, an easy task considering how tiny the kitchen was. Tugging gently, she pulled him towards her.

"Cheer up," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile.

"Good, because," she kissed him, "I wouldn't want our last two hours together until December spent with you being in a foul mood."

"I'm fine," he repeated, sounding far more sincere this time. He took the moment to rest his hands on the counter, placing both on either side of her. When he looked back at his oven once more, he rolled his eyes.

Victoire grabbed his chin and forced him not to look at it.

"I know. It's just…" he trailed off and stared at her, though his train of thought changed almost instantly once he met her face. You know, I kind of like you sitting right here. You're at the perfect height for me to—" He kissed her. "I don't have to bend down or anything."

She put her hands in his hair and began absently running her fingers through it. "You know where else you don't have to bend down?"

"Hmm?"

She hopped off the counter and gestured towards his room, knowing that she didn't need to say anything more. She was fully aware that he would follow her if she simply ventured that way.

Sure enough, as she entered his room and began attempting to fold his robes up in order to clear some space, she heard the door shut behind her and the room became almost completely dark. He appeared at her side and yanked the robe she was holding from her, tossing it carelessly across the room.

"It's going to wrinkle," she said.

"I could not care less," he mumbled, pulling her down onto the bed on top of him.

Victoire laughed. "You'll regret that tomor—"

Ted wasted no time in kissing her, as if he was purposely cutting her off, but his face felt warm and familiar against hers, so she decided not to press it. It was better to just let herself get lost in the moment.

As she got herself more comfortable on top of him, she began to think about how she could easily snog like this for the rest of time. This was always her favorite part, but then again, there were several things she'd yet to experience that could easily be better…or so people led her to believe. That was all in due time, though. Right now, she just relished in the opportunity to push herself against him, press her lips into his, and enjoy the contours of his body. One thing all this kissing had taught her was that Ted was a much better kisser than she would have ever pegged him for back in the day. She suddenly wondered if there was a certain correlation between being a good kisser and being good at other things?

"As nice as this looks on you," Ted said as he fumbled with the hem of her shirt, "which it did, I might add because you look amazing in it, I think we should get rid of it."

Victoire smiled—and silently congratulated herself for her shirt doing exactly as she had intended it to—as it came over her head and found itself absently tossed across the room.

She switched her position when she lay back down and immediately pulled Ted down on top of her, kissing him in an urgent and hurried manner. She wanted to soak in everything about this moment, knowing that this was the last she was going to get for months. The heat between them, the excitement in the way he was kissing her, the anticipation and the uncertainty of wondering where his hands were going to go; not to mention, just the intense tension that always arose when the two of them started going at it. It felt intoxicating, as though she was ready to throw all reservations out the window and simply let her instincts of what felt good take over.

In a haze of fervor and eagerness, several other choice items of clothing began peeling themselves off. She worked him easily out of his shirt and pants, though she made him work a little to get her pants off—just because she enjoyed the determination in his expression when she pretended to make it difficult for him. Before she knew it, between their bouts of intense kissing and flip-flopping of body positioning, both were left in their bare essentials; only a few thin layers of fabric were separating the two from an entire new realm of their relationship. While things seemed almost fast, everything about what was happening felt oddly right. It made her somehow want more. More…

She had a moment of sound clarity as she slowed things down to a calmer pace and began kissing him slowly. What was more? Well, she obviously knew what more entailed, but was it too soon? They'd only been together for a month, but they'd known each other since she was born. This wasn't like a normal relationship where people were still getting to know each other and seeing if they fit. She knew they fit, so did that mean she was ready for sex? Was there supposed to be a sign telling her she was ready? If she was really ready, should she be asking herself all of these questions?

"You okay?" Ted asked in a breathless tone as he pulled himself off of her and positioned himself so he was now lying beside her. Even in the dark, she could tell he was studying her face.

She stared back at him, wondering if she'd been thinking so hard that she's pulled herself out of the moment. "Yeah," she leaned forward to kiss him again, "never better."

The entire idea of sex was huge for her. She didn't want to make a big deal of things, but she couldn't help but over think it. The furthest she'd gone with a boy before Ted was letting David Thorpe feel her up after they'd been together for two months. Ted had gotten that far on the first day they were together—Ted had gotten worlds further in the days since, but were they rushing things? She knew she wanted him to be her first, but if they had sex in the first month, then what was left to look—?

Things took a heated turn in that moment, and Victoire's mind immediately dropped whatever it was she had been thinking seconds before to concentrate on what was in front of her. The touches, the senses, the feelings...whatever Ted was doing, she never wanted him to stop doing it. She pulled herself forward and started kissing him again, wrapping her fingers in his hair and pushing her body towards him. He actively responded, pulling himself up and leveling himself so that their bodies were parallel to each other.

"Hey, Ted?" she whispered.

"Hmmm?" he asked, his eyes closed.

She slowly leaned in to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you," he said as he cracked his eyes open to look at her. "You also have no idea how much I'm going to miss you."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," she said as she went back to concentrating on what she'd been doing before. She reached for his shorts and slowly tugged at them, but stopped when she heard a knocking sound from somewhere nearby.

She glanced at Ted, who looked at if he'd heard it too, but he only let his eyes flutter open for a second before deciding to dismiss it. She decided to ignore it as well, returning to the task of dealing with his shorts and wondering what exactly she could do next. She felt sexy and strangely powerful knowing she could make him—

The sound of knocking returned, only this time louder.

"What the hell…?" Ted mumbled under his breath, but still made no attempt to move. Victoire glanced at up him curiously, but he just shook his head and leaned forward to kiss her. "Ignore it."

As she kissed him back, she'd barely been able to put herself back in the moment when the sound of knocking turned into a now loud pounding.

They both pulled away from each other, Ted's eyes immediately darting towards his bedroom door. It was hard to see a lot in the dark, but Victoire knew there was no mistaking the look of aggravation and annoyance on Ted's face right now. The pounding repeated itself for a second time, and Ted immediately exhaled an overly loud, frustrated sigh.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, pulling himself off the bed to search around the room for his pants. Once he found them, the sound of him hastily pulling them on and mumbling something indistinguishable under his breath was all Victoire could hear.

He pulled open his bedroom door and let the light from the living room spill into the bedroom, just as the pounding repeated itself for a third time. Victoire could just make out his silhouette as he reached into his pocket for his wand. He turned back to her.

"Please, stay just like that," he said, sounding a little like he was pleading. "I'll be right back." He grabbed at the door know. "Right after I kill whoever is pounding on my door."

She smiled a little as he shut the door behind him; the room immediately went pitch black. Victoire couldn't help but wonder if this was supposed to be the sign she'd been requesting earlier that maybe she should be waiting.

If it was, she really, really wanted to ignore it.


	7. A World of Change

Ted clicked his bedroom door shut behind him and gripped his wand in his hand. The only thought running through his head at the moment was how this had better be Merlin himself standing behind his front door; even then, he still might try to curse him. He would very well hope that Merlin had the omniscient power to know when he was interrupting a very, very, very good thing.

Whoever it was who was now pounding on the front door pounded once again, just as Ted reached out to grab the doorknob. With his wand raised at attention—in more ways than one—he pulled open the front door to find Simon standing there, his fist raised as though he was ready to pound once more.

"I knew you were home," Simon said. "You said earlier you'd be home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding more irritable than he'd anticipated he would. "I also said the reason I'd be home because I was spending the night with Victoire. Why are you pounding on my door?"

"You didn't answer when I knocked."

"You think that maybe there's a reason for that?" Ted asked with an obvious look.

"I need to talk to you," Simon said with a strange anxiousness in his tone.

"I really can't talk right now," Ted said as he grabbed the side of the door and started to shut it. "We'll talk later."

Simon caught it and held it open. "No. Seriously."

"No. Seriously," Ted said as he made a head gesture towards his bedroom. "Vic goes back to school tomorrow and I've got less than an hour left with her before she's got to go back home. I don't get to see her until Christmas time, so no offense, mate, but you've really got to piss off. Hell, come back after ten and I'm all ears. We can talk for hours, but just give me this hour."

Simon stared at him, his face ashen and his brow looking sweaty. He sighed heavily. "Susan's pregnant."

Ted face went blank, having not entirely processed what Simon had just said. "Sorry?"

"She's pregnant," he repeated as he averted his eyes to the ground. "I just found out about an hour ago."

Ted's grip on the door slacked. He stared at Simon before an obvious question came to mind. "Is it yours?"

He glared at him.

"I…" Ted stammered, "I just wanted to check."

"It's mine," Simon said slowly, looking as if just speaking the words hit him like a pile of bricks; a world of change already completely evident across his face. He looked clueless, he looked scared, but mostly, he looked shocked.

Ted heaved a heavy breath. "Shit, man. You weren't planning this—"

"I think that's obvious," Simon said.

"But how did it…?" Ted began, stepping aside so Simon could enter. "How did it happen?"

"Again," Simon mumbled as he walked inside, "that should be obvious."

"You knew what I meant."

Simon plopped down onto Ted's sofa and let his head lazily drop in his hand. "Something went wrong. A spell didn't work or one of us miscast…"

Ted screwed his face up as he found himself absently staring at spot on the coffee table. "Wait, how is there a chance the spell won't work?"

"If you do it right it will," Simon said, "but there are all sorts of factors that come into play, especially in the heat of the moment. Mispronounce one thing and the next thing you know…" He trailed off. "I've heard rumors that if you use someone else's wand to cast the protective spells, they may not be as effective, which may have been what happened. I can't even tell you how many times I've just randomly grabbed at Susan's wand instead of mind when it's dark."

"That's just an old witches' tale," Ted said.

"It's a fact that your magic is more powerful with your own wand rather than when you use someone else's," Simon said distantly.

"But it's not completely ineffective to use someone else's wand," Ted said as he, too, sat down on the sofa. "I doubt that's what happened to you."

"I almost hope that's what happened," Simon said. "Then I'd at least know." He stared ahead into blank space, a million and one thoughts obviously running through his mind. Ted couldn't even imagine to pin point what he was thinking, let alone what it would feel like to be in his position right now. Having sudden life changing news thrust upon you in at a moment's notice, the thought of having a kid…it at all seemed surreal.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do," Simon finally said.

Ted shook his head, right as the sound of his bedroom door opening creaked behind him. He turned and saw Victoire emerging, fully clothed with her hair tied back and his t-shirt in her hand. He threw her an apologetic look, and she lobbed his shirt at him. Her expression seemed curious as to why Simon and he were chatting in the living room at the moment, but she returned Ted's look with a lazy smile and a shrug.

"Hey, Vicki," Simon said absently, but without looking at her.

"Hi, Simon," she said, her face growing concerned once she noticed his demeanor. She glanced at Ted, as if to silently ask what was wrong, but he simply shook his head. She rounded back on Simon. "Is everything okay?"

Simon heaved a heavy breath as he finally looked at her. He forced a stressed smile onto his face. "Susan's pregnant."

Her eyes went wide as she glanced at Ted, who was looking back her as though he was lost on what to say. Now looking slightly dazed, she plopped down next to him on the sofa. "How pregnant?"

"I don't know," Simon said. "Very?"

"I meant how far along?"

"Oh. Well, the Healer said about a month, which, when I tired to trace that back, made me think it happened at the World Cup." He glanced at them both and smiled weakly. "Looks like you two weren't the only ones busy that night."

Victoire smiled sympathetically. "Is Susan okay?"

Ted glanced at Simon, who was now cracking his knuckles over and over again. "She cried a bit. I could tell when she got back from the Healer she'd been crying a complete mixture of surprised and 'what the hell are we going to do' tears. She seems better now, just confused." He looked up. "She's afraid to tell her folks."

"I would be, too," Victoire said.

"Hell," Simon said, "I'm terrified to tell my mum. She's going to beat the living shit out of me for getting someone pregnant."

"She'll only beat you if you do something stupid," Ted said. "Like, if you run off or something."

"I'm not going to run off," Simon mumbled. "I don't have a fucking clue what I'm going to do, but I'm not going to run off."

Victoire stood from beside Ted and walked over to where Simon was sitting. She sat down beside him and started rubbing his back in a reassuring manner. "It'll be okay, Simon."

Simon didn't say anything; he just stared to rub at the temples of his head. Victoire caught Ted's eye and gave him blank look. It was a look that he similarly shared with her. He would have been more prepared to have a hippogriff come storming through his living room versus the news he was currently hearing. The idea of Simon with a kid, a real life baby…he didn't even know what to think. Just yesterday, they were eleven and at school and now, he was gearing up to have his own kid? How on earth did this work out?

Not to mention that the idea of protective spells failing certainly put a damp spin on things. He'd been convinced they were fool proof, but now—or at least for the time being—he'd be second guessing himself when ever he tried to cast one. That thought alone was nerve racking. Ted had always been more apt to make mistakes when he wasn't confident in what he was doing.

"I mean," Simon said suddenly, causing both Ted and Victoire to sit up at attention, "it's not like I think this is some world ending mistake. I really love Susan, so one day I would have liked to…" he shook his head. "One day. Just not _to_day."

Both Ted and Victoire nodded, though only Ted spoke. "You're handling this pretty well. Better than I think I would."

"You really are, Simon," Victoire agreed. "Honestly, I don't even know what I would do if I were in Susan's position. I'd probably be dead once my parents found out."

"I'd be deader," Ted said. "I can promise you that they'd find me first and kill me."

"Yeah, well, they wouldn't know it was you, now would they?"

He considered this. "Good point."

Simon made a face. "What if her family wants to kill me?"

"They won't," Victoire said quickly. "We were only kidding, Simon."

"Yeah," Ted agreed. "Plus, they live over the America. You'd have a small head start, at the very least."

Victoire rolled her eyes at him, though Simon seemed to find it a little funny. He smiled weakly. "Yeah, they'd have to schedule a Portkey through our office, so I'd be able to keep tabs on them."

"Exactly," said Ted. "You'd know when they were coming and just how long you had to run."

"They're not going to kill you," Victoire said.

"You know what else?" Simon asked. "It'll be due in May. By next May, I'll have a kid." He glanced at Victoire. "By the time you've graduated school, I'll have a kid."

That comment made everything seem very real, and both Victoire and Ted's faces seemed to realize that. The two of them had spent the last month talking about how the year while Victoire was away wasn't really _that_ long, but when put into the perspective of Simon soon having a child, it suddenly seemed quite a bit longer.

"Why does it smell like smoke in here?" Simon asked.

"Long story," Ted said as he glanced at the clock.

Simon followed his gaze. "Shit. I should go. I told Susan I was going for a walk to think, but she's got to be wondering where I went." He glanced from Victoire to Ted. "And, you two probably want to be alone…"

"It's okay, Simon," Victoire said.

"It's not a big deal," Ted added.

"No, you should be," Simon said as he stood up, right before the Ted and Victoire followed. He turned first towards Victoire. "Have a great term. I'm sure I'll see you at Christmas time."

"Absolutely," she said as she leaned in and gave him a particularly tight looking hug. "Send Susan my best. And tell her I said congratulations."

He half smiled before glancing at Ted. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, we can talk later," Ted said. "I'm off Friday night if you need to…whatever."

Simon nodded. "Yeah, we'll see." He gave a quick wave before he walked towards the door and pulled it open. "Enjoy what's left of your night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do—" He paused and turned back towards the pair of them. "On second thought, it'd probably be wise to do exactly what I wouldn't do," he lowered his voice to a mumble, "like cast a proper protective spell."

Both Ted and Victoire smiled, watching as Simon disappeared behind the sound of a door clicking shut. The second he was gone, they turned to each other.

"Oh, Merlin's beard…" Victoire mumbled, letting her forehead fall lazily onto Ted chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down on the sofa with him as he sat. "I cannot believe that that just happened."

Victoire rested her head on his shoulder before picking up her feet and curling them underneath her. "Can you imagine a little Simon running around?"

Ted made a wide eyed face. "No."

She looked up at him. "Looks like you're going to have to."

"He's not even twenty yet," he muttered. "We're still kids. I still see myself as a kid sometimes. I know he's got to."

"It's going to definitely change things," she said, taking Ted's hand in hers. They both found themselves sitting in silence for a long moment; both staring straight ahead at nothing until Victoire made a movement to look at the clock. "It's twenty to ten."

Ted looked too. "Shit. Hey, I'm sorry about that."

"Why?" she asked. "I know he's your best friend, but Simon's my friend, too. I care if something happens to him."

"I know, but still…" He grew quiet as the realization that in twenty minutes time, he'd have to say goodbye to her suddenly hit him. He'd been dreading it all evening, but now that it was staring him in the face, he knew he had to come to terms with it. "I wish you didn't have to go tomorrow."

"I wish I didn't have to either," she said quietly as her grip on his hand suddenly became a little tighter. He could feel her drawing small circles with her thumb on the top of his hand and began watching her do it.

"You're going to be so busy this year," Ted said as he leaned his head back against the couch and stared at her. "Seventh year is a trip."

She smiled a little. "Just earlier today I was wondering what I was going to do with myself given all the free time I'd have. With no real drama waiting for me, I figured that it was bound to open up half my days."

"You won't have any free time," he said. "At least I rarely did. And you're taking as many classes as I did."

"We'll see…" she said lazily. "I just need to pass my exams so I don't end up working somewhere dreadful."

Ted pulled his hand out of hers in order to put his arm around her. She dutifully followed through and fell into the motions of leaning against him. "Do you even know what you want to do when you graduate?"

She shrugged.

"Not even an idea?"

"Potions and Runes are my best subjects," she said. "Charms and Herbology I'm strong in, and Transfiguration I'm okay, though I hate it." She sighed. "I'd preferably like to play to my strengths."

"You're really good at Runes," Ted mumbled. "Potions too, of course, but it's rare to find someone who's really good at Runes."

"I'm better at Potions."

"Yeah, but think of it this way, the amount of people who come out of school even able to understand basic Runes are few and far between. You can actually decipher a lot of them on site."

She glanced up at him. "What are you trying to say?"

He shrugged. "I just think maybe you should consider the possibility of, maybe, doing something in the same field as your dad. When he was younger, I mean."

She sat up straight and turned to him. "You think I should go into curse breaking?"

"Only if you want to," he said. "I'm always reading in the _Prophet_ about how they need people to read and figure out ancient symbols."

Victoire actually laughed. "My dad went into curse breaking because he was smart and adventurous. He was looking for the challenge. He was looking for the madness. He was looking to travel." She made a face. "I'd have to travel the world."

"What's wrong with that?"

"My life is here," she said. "I like to travel, but I don't crave it like my dad did—does. I'm more like my mum. I like the idea of having stability, not running around the world getting into all sorts of mad situations—half of which my dad won't even tell us about because they're that insane."

"I just think you'd be good at it," he said.

"And we all thought you'd be a good Auror," she countered once she turned back around and leaned back into him, "but look how that turned out."

"Touché."

She shook her head. "Nice to know that you're encouraging me to go halfway around the world to live in Egypt or the likes."

He squeezed her affectionately. "I'm encouraging you to do something I know you'd be good at. It doesn't have to be that, but I'm just trying to give you ideas. And hey, who's to say I wouldn't come with you if you did?"

She looked back up at him. "Would you?"

He shrugged. "I might. It's not exactly a decision I have to make, so I don't know what I would do."

Victoire seemed to consider this. "It's not as if there aren't other options I can explore here at home."

"There are."

"Like," she sat up again and stared at him again, "I've sort of been thinking about healing."

Ted cocked his eyebrow curiously at her. "Really?" This was the first he'd heard about this, which was surprising considering the field.

"It's just something I've been thinking about," she said. "I think I'd be good at it."

"I think you definitely could be, yeah," he said.

"And, it's something that could be a real challenge."

"Definitely would be."

"But," she said heavily, "I don't know. You're always talking about difficult it is and how hard of a time the Healers you know have. The training is years long…"

Ted smiled a little. "Well, to be fair, if it was easy, everyone would be doing it."

She twisted her face into a pensive expression. "You just make it sound like they're always miserable."

"They're not always miserable," he said quickly, wondering if he really did sound like that all time. He didn't necessarily mean to make things appear that way, and wouldn't have had he known Victoire even had the slightest interest in pursuing healing, but it was a rough and arduous job. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea. "I think the training is pretty rough, but it has to be because you're dealing with people's lives. There are good days and bad, like all jobs, but most of the time, the people there really seem to love what they do."

She shrugged and leaned back into him. "I don't know. It's just something I've been thinking about lately."

He smiled. "I think it'd be kind of cool if you became a Healer," he said. "We'd probably get to see each other all the time…" He trailed off as a thought occurred to him that made him stop and reconsider what she was saying. "Wait, that's not why you want to do it, is it?"

She looked up at him. "Huh?"

"Healing," he said, watching her face. "You don't want to go into it because of me, right? You've got your own reasons?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "No, not because of you. I mean, it's an incentive, sure, especially since I'm on the fence about so many things right now. But if I do it, it'll be because I want to. Being able to see you would just be one of the pros on my long list of pros and cons."

He nodded his head a little. "I was just checking."

She laughed and poked him in the side. "My, don't you think highly of yourself. Thinking I would base my entire career choice around you."

"You never know," he said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the sofa so that he was on top of her, "But to be honest, I'm glad that's not the case. It would be a little weird."

"Just a little," she said as she kissed him quickly.

He pulled himself back up into a sitting position while she remained lying down and draped her legs across his lap. "Plus, half the reason I love you is because you're independent minded. I don't even like making my own decisions, let alone yours."

She laughed. "Oh, don't worry. That will never be a problem."

He smiled and glanced up at the clock, his face falling. It was ten to ten. They had ten more minutes, and Victoire—after following his gaze—seemed to realize where his mind was going.

"Christmas time," she said heavily. "It's not _that_ far off."

"It's not that close, either," he mumbled.

"Don't say it like that," she said as she started to frown. She pulled her legs towards her, her knees now bent in front of Ted's face.

"Sorry," he said as he let his forehead fall forward to rest on her closest knee. He smiled lazily at her. "It's really not that far off."

She forced a weak smile as they both continued to stare at each other for a long moment. Neither of them seemed to want to say anything more, least of all their goodbyes. They simply sat there in silence, both mustering half hearted smiles and wishing these last few minutes somehow found a way to elongate themselves.

"This sucks," Victoire finally said. She looked away and suddenly sniffled.

Ted pulled his head off her knee and focused more intently on her. Was she crying? She was purposely looking away from him now, so he couldn't catch her eye.

"Vic."

"What?" she asked, still looking off to the far side of the room, though her voice sounded choked up.

"Look at me."

She closed her eyes and turned her head back in his direction. Through squinted eyes, she looked up at him.

"Are you crying?" he asked.

She reached her arms over her face to shield herself. "No," she mumbled, her voice muffled against her arm.

"Vic…" he said with a smile as he reached out to pull her arm away. He couldn't help but feel extremely touched at the fact that she was letting her emotions about not being able to see him surface like this. At the same time, he didn't want to see her get upset. "Hey, it's really not that long."

Her arms didn't budge, though she sniffled again.

He couldn't stop smiling at her. He moved and positioned himself so that he was on top of her and had the use of both arms to pry hers away from her face. He didn't pull hard, but this time she gave way far easier than she had before. He held her arms and met her face to face, where her eyes were shiny and filled with tears. She begrudgingly looked at him.

He let go of her arms and smiled.

"Don't laugh at me," she said as a tear plopped down her face.

"I wasn't going to."

"I can't believe I'm crying," she said as she reached up and started using her sleeve to dab her eyes.

He continued to smile at her.

"I just really don't feel like saying goodbye yet, but I know I have to."

He looked up at the clock. Their time was all but up, but he quickly realized that it didn't necessarily have to be. Not yet, at least. What was stopping him from going to King's Cross tomorrow and seeing her before she left? Well, besides the fact that he had a presentation to make at two o'clock and had been planning on spending the morning to prepare, but he could spare a couple of minutes, right?

He mulled on whether or not this was feasible as he stared back down at her. She had sniffled in an attempt to regain her composure and looked as if she was thinking about what she wanted to say. Between her looking so beautiful and sad, and the fact that he didn't want to say goodbye yet either, he decided that getting the chance to push off goodbye and see her tomorrow was worth the risk.

"Don't say it," he said finally. "This isn't goodbye yet."

She stared at him. "What?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said with a shrug. "So, we can save our goodbyes until then."

Her expression turned doubtful. "When will I see you tomorrow?"

He pulled himself off the couch and stood up. "I'll come see you off at the train station before you go."

Her mouth gaped slightly. "But you've got your presentation tomorrow."

"Let me worry about that," he said as he held out his hand to help her off the couch. "I'll figure something out."

"Ted, your presentation is huge. You don't have to come—"

"I know I don't. But like I said, I'll figure something out."

"What if you can't?"

He bit his lip. There was a chance that he wouldn't be able to peel himself away from work; they both knew that. He didn't want to believe that was an option, though.

"I will."

"But how do you know?"

"Because I know." He smiled. "I'm not letting you say goodbye tonight. It's stupid, because I will see you tomorrow."

Victoire didn't seem to know what to say to this, but Ted—realizing they only had minutes left—didn't want to bother wasting another second of what little time they did have left of that night. He pulled her closer and kissed her, making sure that kiss in particular counted.

It seemed Victoire felt the same, because this certainly wasn't their usual end of the evening sort of kiss. He knew they were both making sure that, on the chance—the slim chance, as far as Ted kept telling himself—that he couldn't make it tomorrow, that this was a lasting note. This would last them four months if it had to.

After a solid two minutes without interruption, Victoire pulled away, though Ted pulled her back for another second or two before they finally did break apart. She stared at him curiously, the desire to say goodbye clearly playing at her expression.

"Don't say it," he said.

"I don't know what to say."

"How about, 'see you tomorrow'?" he suggested.

"If I say it, will it actually happen?"

"It can't hurt."

She leaned in and quickly kissed him again. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow." She looked at the ground. "But, just in case—"

"Don't say it."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Can I at least say I love you?"

He smiled at her. "Now that you can say all you want."


	8. King's Cross Goodbyes

Sitting at his desk in the lab, Ted felt completely useless. He had woken up especially early that morning to get a jump start on the work he should have completed the day before, but he didn't seem to be making much headway. He felt grouchy. He felt irritable. He felt like he was severely lacking focus, and to top things off, he was horny—though that last one had nothing to do with work. That one was thanks solely to Simon's abrupt arrival the night before, but Ted couldn't dwell on that right now. He had too many other things to worry about.

After having spent most of the early hours of the morning forcing himself to write—and repeatedly rewrite—his dragon pox speech, by nine o'clock, he had attempted to get the rest of his day started properly. He'd gotten dressed in his nice robes, which had required a serious ironing charm after a night spent on the floor; he'd taken a brush to his hair, which was slowly starting to grow out again after a year of keeping it quite short; and he'd even gone into work earlier than necessary in the hopes that being in the lab would keep him on task. With all of that done, he now only had to worry about using whatever left over time he had to memorize his speech in its entirety…that, and he had to figure a way to cut a ten minute period of time out between ten-thirty and eleven o'clock to get down to King's Cross; he was trying not to worry about that, though. Not yet, at least.

Unfortunately, the lab didn't seem to be at all conducive to helping him focus. He'd been sitting and reading the same paragraph of his speech over and over again; each time mouthing his dragon pox findings out loud to himself in an attempt to make them stick. The Russians were due to arrive within the next few hours and not being prepared was not an option.

He put his notes down and closed his eyes. "Recent findings have revealed," he mumbled to himself, trying to remember what he'd just read, "that the ratio of Strengthening Solution base to Anti-Swelling Reduction in experimental treatment directly correlates with the…" He stopped, having drawn a blank. Directly correlates with what?

"Hello," said Hazel, who also shared presentation duties with him that day. Ted had been so preoccupied with his mumbling that she had somehow snuck up behind him undetected. "Practicing, are you?"

"Directly correlates with what?" he asked, thinking out loud.

"Sorry?"

He rubbed his eyes and reached forward to grab at his notes on his desk. "The ratio of Strengthening Solution to Anti-Swelling Reduction in experimental treatment directly correlates with—"

"The percentage of Fever Reduction Serum used in combination with lotus root," she said, answering for him.

He pointed at that exact phrase on his paper before throwing it on the table in a frustrated huff. "That's what the paper says."

"That's what it should say considering that's the answer."

Ted groaned out of frustration. "Why won't this stick? I know this."

"Why won't what stick?" she asked, her brow now furrowing. "Ted, you said yesterday you knew this. You specifically told me that you had this all down pat, and that's why you claimed we didn't need to spend the night practicing."

"I do know this," he said, avoiding her eyes. "I'm just having a hard time remembering it at the moment."

She glared at him. "Well, a lot of good you not remembering now is going to do us! The Russians are already here. They'll be here in the hospital within the next hour. You need to know this!"

"Hazel," he said quickly, throwing her a weary look. "It's really not the end of the world. I can always use my notes if I have to."

"I can always use my notes if I…" she repeated icily, rolling her eyes before storming straight off towards her desk in a typical, overreacting, Hazel fashion. As per the usual, Hazel had spent that last several weeks on nervous edge, flipping out over this very presentation. She'd yelled, she'd cried, she'd panicked, and she'd locked herself away in an attempt to not speak to anyone, but they'd all grown used to that. Six hours from now she'd come crashing down from her tyrannical high and be perfectly normal, as though nothing had ever happened. Sure, Ted was plenty used to her ways, but that didn't mean he appreciated the unnecessary stress he and the others had to endure at the hands of her mood swings. He was actually rather sick of it all.

"I'm so glad this is the last presentation I'll ever be forced to give," Hazel said, her voice carrying from her desk.

Ted looked up. He assumed she was talking to him considering the lab was otherwise empty. Still, even in knowing that she was addressing him, it didn't make him feel any more inclined to act as if he'd heard her.

"It'll be you and Nate on your own after this," she added purposely. "No more me to save your arses."

"Wait, what?" he asked, his curiosity now officially piqued.

"After this, I'm done with presentations," she said, swinging around in her chair to face him. "I've been promoted to senior research assistant. Linus has finally been promoted to specialist and is moving across the hall. I'm taking over his job. Thus, I'm moving on to bigger projects."

Ted stared at her. As annoying and dictator-ish as Hazel tended to be, she worked hard and completed a lot of projects—usually the work that he and Nate wouldn't have otherwise done. If she was done working with them, that meant…well, a lot more work for them.

"You're done with dragon pox?"

She laughed a little. "Of course not. No one in our field is ever really done with anything until it's cured, are we? In fact, one day I plan on specializing in dragon pox. However, I'm done with the small time research. I'm done with the testing and the menial tasks. I'm done with running everyone else's experiments for them. I'm onto doing my own work full time, which means I'm done working in the same small time realm as you and Nate."

Ted found his stare growing colder and colder the longer he watched at her. Small time realm? That had sounded rather snotty. She'd barely just risen above and she was already looking down on the rest of them.

"You two are bright, though. I'm sure you'll somehow manage without me." She smiled a little. "I don't know how, mind you, but somehow you'll get by."

Ted stare was unmistakably irritated. That had definitely sounded snotty, if not blatantly patronizing. He didn't need this right now. Not at all, in fact.

He looked away from her, not at all feeling like dealing with her for one second longer than he had to. He couldn't help but now feel especially happy that he had worked out a plan to see Victoire before she left. Besides the fact that seeing her would considerably brighten his mood, had he been forced to deal with all of this on top of already having had said goodbye to her last night, his head might very well explode.

Thankfully for him, Hazel didn't seem to have anything else to say after that; whether that was because she was too busy with her own work, or because she was too annoyed to speak to him, Ted didn't know. He'd take either option if it meant she wasn't harping on him. Instead, the two sat in silence; neither of them speaking a word to each other until Nate wandered into the laboratory at a little after ten-fifteen. He was seemingly in better spirits than either of them were, not that that was saying much. No one's spirits were ever quite high on presentation day, but Nate looked as well as anyone could considering what they were facing in a just a few hours time.

"Why is it so quiet in here?" Nate asked upon entering, taking the moment to make a grand gesture of bowling his bag across the room and watching as it slid under his desk.

No one spoke. Ted only just barely glanced in his direction.

Nate looked from Hazel to Ted and then back again. "Well," he said blankly. "You two look like you're having a ball."

"Nate, please tell me you know your part of the presentation?" Hazel said, swinging around in her chair. "Don't tell me _you've_ forgotten, too?"

"Who forgot?"

"I didn't forget," Ted said defensively, now glaring at Hazel. "I went blank on one fact and she thinks I've pissed the whole presentation away."

Nate slowly smiled. "Are you new around here? Or have your forgotten that if everything is not in picture perfect order, Hazel will flip her shit and start eating babies?"

"Oh, piss off, Nate," said Hazel, though Ted did make a point of laughing. Not because it was particularly funny, but rather because he knew it would annoy Hazel. She immediately threw him a scathing look.

"Oh, so are you two going to fight today?" Nate asked, pointing between them. "Do I get the day off?"

Hazel swung her chair back around towards her desk. "Would you both just shut up?"

Nate looked at Ted and mouthed, "What the hell?"

Ted mimicked jamming his quill into the side of his head.

"She's just stressed," he mouthed.

"Yeah, well, I'm stressed too," Ted said, not lowering his voice. "You don't see me taking it out on the world."

"I can hear you," said Hazel.

"I wasn't trying to keep you from hearing me," he countered.

"Jeez," Nate said, sounding more and more amused by the minute. "You two really are going at it." He smiled. "And for once, I'm free and clear."

"Shut up, Nate!" Hazel snapped.

Nate laughed, but proceeded to walk over to Ted's desk. He leaned casually up against a nearby filing cabinet. "Now, I know why Hazel's testy, but what's your deal, Lupin?"

"I have no deal," he muttered.

Nate continued to smile. "Oh, this will be a fantastic day. I can already feel it. Can you two feel it?"

"Shut up, Nate!" said Ted and Hazel in unison.

"Fantastic," he said with a funny sort of laugh. "Bloody fantastic."

Nate turned back to his own desk, where, once he sat, the room grew silent once more. Not only did the room become so quiet you could hear a pin drop, but it remained completely silent as the three of them continued to work _separately_ on a presentation that they knew they'd have to give _together_ in a few hours time. This wasn't exactly something that was going to work in their favor, and as much as Ted didn't feel like putting up with Hazel's crap, he knew he had to suck it up for the better of his career and force himself to play nice with her. He actually felt compelled to say something about how they should be practicing together, but as he glanced at the clock and noticed it was almost twenty minutes to eleven, he didn't want to chance finally getting down to work just as he planned on heading out to meet Victoire.

He sighed and set his dragon pox notes back down on his desk. He had planned on leaving for King's Cross at twenty to eleven, so as to give himself at least ten minutes to sort his way through the crowds, as well as allow him extra time on chance he ran into someone he knew. There was a possibility—a fairly good possibility—that he may run into someone he recognized. He knew Harry and Ginny would be there seeing James and Albus off on the train; randomly running into the entire family would be a bit strange since he had already said his goodbyes to the boys two nights before at a family dinner.

This was especially true given that he'd been acting oddly enough during dinner that evening, what with pestering Harry with vague questions about how he and Ginny had made their long distant relationship work the year she had gone off to school and he hadn't. Even Ted had to admit that the questions had been a little obvious, and he was all but asking Harry to push the subject and ask him what the hell he was on about, but Harry had answered them dutifully and without any inquiry as to why he wanted to know. Still, Ted knew that turning up and King's Cross out of the blue, on top of everything else, would probably make both Harry and Ginny suspect that he was hiding something…that is, if they didn't think it already. The entire situation was something he would much rather avoid being questioned about if possible.

He glanced back at the clock, noticing that it was now 10:40. Time to go. He stood from his desk, looking once more at his dragon pox notes and resigning to the fact that he'd just take care of it later.

"I'm headed out for a bit," Ted announced as he walked towards the door. "I'll be back."

"Where you going?" Nate asked.

"I'm just running a quick errand."

"Is it important?" Hazel asked, her tone sounding calmer than it had earlier. "Because I was just going to suggest that we should all probably run through this presentation a few times."

"Yeah, it is," Ted said. "I have to do it before eleven."

She sighed, but seemed as though she was trying to force herself to remain even-tempered. "Do you think we could see your discussion notes?"

"I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"That's twenty minutes I could use to—"

"Fine," he said, immediately turning back towards his desk. At this point, he was just going to give her what she wanted. Arguing with her was futile, and wasting what little time he had to get to King's Cross wasn't worth it. He picked up several handfuls of parchment before carrying them across the room and placing them on Hazel's desk.

"This is quite a bit," Hazel said as she picked up the top piece of paper from the stack.

"Uh-huh," he said, turning towards the door.

"You don't think this is too much?"

He had heard her ask, but hadn't stopped to answer. He knew he could have an exact, verbatim copy of what she had written for herself, and she would still somehow find a way to nitpick it and tear it to shreds. As he made his way down to board the lifts to go downstairs, he suddenly realized that Hazel being promoted was probably a very good thing. He and Nate would probably be far more swamped with work, but they'd both be a lot saner. He supposed he'd take being busy and sane versus bored and mad.

Upon reaching the ground floor, he wasted no time in Apparating across town to King's Cross, where he immediately checked his watch and realized it was now quarter to eleven. He had fifteen minutes before the Hogwarts Express left and he still hadn't even found Victoire.

He quickly attempted to maneuver his way around the busy Muggle travelers that were headed in all different directions. The station was crowded today, and he suddenly hoped that Victoire wasn't being held up or running late due to all the traffic. He hadn't taken it into account that she may be the one to arrive late, though the possibility now seemed somewhat worrisome.

As a means to save time, he found himself following closely behind a family that had a loud screech owl amongst its luggage. They were headed in the direction of the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and Muggles from all direction were gazing curiously at the ornery owl as it squawked its shrill call. One thing was for sure, it was certainly going to make it difficult to disappear through the barrier when that owl was causing so much—

"Teddy."

Ted snapped his attention away from the owl and saw Bill and Fleur Weasley passing him in the opposite direction. They had stopped and doubled back upon noticing him.

"Oh, hi," Ted said, feeling strangely anxious all of the sudden. "Hi."

"Look at you," Bill said, looking him up and down. "I don't think I've seen you with brown hair since you were a kid."

"Oh," Ted said as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's for work. I, sort of, have to wear it like this. I change it back whenever I can help it."

"You look very 'andsome," Fleur said as she, too, looked him up and down. "Why are you dressed up?"

"Thank you. Um, I have a presentation for work in just a little bit, so…" He trailed off and shrugged before forcing an awkward smile. "You know."

Bill nodded and smiled curiously. "So, what are you doing here, then?"

His face went blank. "Um…" He looked around and racked his brain for something to say. "Well…that's…"

"Are you going to see ze boys off?" Fleur asked. "J'ames and Albus?"

"Yes," Ted said quickly, wondering why that hadn't sprung into his mind faster. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

"Right, it is Albus's first day, isn't it?" Bill asked. "Rose's too."

Fleur suddenly sniffled, but still tried to smile. She looked as though she'd been crying a little, which only reminded Ted of Victoire from the night before seeing as she did look an awful lot like her mother. "I always get emotional when I see ze children off. Ezpecially knowing zat zis iz Victoire's last time."

"You better go if you want to catch the kids," Bill said as he put his arm around his wife and threw Ted a "go while you can" look. "Good to see you, though."

"You too," he said, edging himself away while taking an awkward step towards the barrier. He waited until Bill and Fleur had gotten several yards away before he turned on the spot to pass through the wall. If has been standing there talking with her parents, that meant Victoire was inside; he still needed to find her with what little time he had left. He checked his watch. Ten minutes until eleven.

Of course, once on the barrier's opposite side, he was now met by hundreds of wizards and witches milling about. Students were reuniting with friends, parents were hugging their children goodbye, parents were reuniting with old friends, babies were crying, kids were yelling, and pretty much every conceivable thing Ted could imagine was staring him straight in the face…except for Victoire.

He craned his neck, trying to look above the crowd and see if he could spot anyone he would recognize. There was no Harry, no Ginny, no any of their friends or children. At least with the crowd this thick, he'd be able to move around undetected; though, it would make finding Victoire nearly impossible. Why hadn't they picked a spot to meet?

Brushing past group after group of people, he made his way down the platform and along the length of the train with his eyes peeled for any sign of Victoire. Why did there have to be so many blonde girls running around? Every time he thought he'd spotted Victoire amongst the faceless crowd, the girl would turn around to reveal someone else entirely. He'd gone half the platform before he thought perhaps he should turn around and go back towards the barrier entrance. It would make sense for Victoire to know where he would enter from and then come to him. At least, he hoped once she'd seen this crowd that she would put that together.

He turned around, narrowly missing a group of boys who were running full speed towards the train. How had he and Victoire not planned on spot to meet? He knew things would be chaotic and hectic. It wasn't as if he'd never seen the first day of school before. This should have been obvious—

"Ted!" yelled a voice that unmistakably belonged to Victoire.

He immediately stopped and turned. He hadn't spotted her right away, though it only took a moment for her blonde head, the correct blonde head this time, to appear through the masses of people on her way towards him. He smiled the second he saw her. Just seeing her face instantly released an immense amount of stress that he was carrying with him.

"I'm really sorry," he said with a small frown once she was close enough to hear him. "We were prepping for this afternoon and—"

"Shut up." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I don't care, I'm just happy you made it."

He pulled away, though Victoire didn't drop her arms. "Yeah, but I should have made it here earlier," he said, his tone frustrated. He looked her up and down before mustering a smile. "You look cute."

"Me?" she said as she stepped back and took him in. "Look at you. All cleaned up and handsome for the dragon pox blokes, then?"

He laughed a little. Apparently, all it took for him to get an endless amount of comments about his appearance was to wear nice clothes. Perhaps Victoire has been onto something with her "clothes can say a lot about you" comments.

"I like to think I'm always handsome," he joked.

She smiled. "Well, I'll certainly agree with that." She grabbed his hand in hers and without another word led him through the crowd towards a large brick wall.

Ted glanced at the train as he was being pulled, knowing that they probably only had all of five minutes before it started beckoning people to board so it could depart. "Have I mentioned how I don't want you going back to school?" he asked.

She grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him towards her. "About a hundred times." She kissed him again. "At least as many times as I've mentioned that I wished Christmas holidays were closer."

"Yeah, me too," he said quietly. "But like I've said, it's just a couple months when you think about."

"A couple of very long months."

"Harry and Ginny did it," he said, remembering his conversation with Harry. "I asked him the other night how they worked that out and he said it's hard, but when you love someone, you make it work."

"Which we'll do," Victoire said confidently, pulling at his robes again in order to kiss him. She was certainly energetic right now, which was hard not to find extremely sexy. Why did she have to leave, again?

"Awwww," cooed a voice that made them both break away from one another. It was Victoire's friend, Whit, along with her boyfriend, Jack Ians.

"Don't mind us," Jack said, ushering Whit along and towards the train. Whit was purposely moving slowly though, and continued to throw the pair of them a goofy sort of smile until she'd disappeared from view.

Victoire shook her head. "I probably deserve that after all the 'awwing' I've done to them over the last year." She shrugged and wasted no time in pulling Ted's face back towards her own, kissing him once again and more passionately than the time before. Her kissing him like this before she had to leave wasn't even fair. If only they could get one more hour. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of there and rip her clothes off and—

"Teddy?" said an entirely too familiar voice.

The voice had registered with him immediately. He pulled away from Victoire ever so slightly while not staring her in eyes, wondering if it had registered for her as well. He reached up to rub his bottom lip before turning around to confirm exactly what he had suspected.

James Potter was standing there, gawking back at the pair of them.

This wasn't good.

"Hey, James," Ted said slowly.

"What are you doing here?" James asked as his eyes continued to dart between him and Victoire. He seemed unsure of whether he should be confused or amused at what he'd just witnessed.

"Um," Ted said with an awkward laugh, "I'm seeing Victoire off."

"By snogging her?"

There was no point in lying to him after what he'd clearly seen. "Well, yeah."

"Wait, are you two…?" He started laughing. "You were snogging!"

"Nothing gets past you, buddy," Ted said before he took a few steps forward and grabbed James by the shoulders. He turned him around on the spot and ushered him forward, hoping he would take the hint. "Have a fantastic term, then. You don't want to miss the train, so you should get going."

James looked up at him once more before laughing and taking off at a sprint in the opposite direction. Both Ted and Victoire watched him go before glancing back at each other.

"He's going to tell everyone," Ted said, shaking his head.

"You think so?" Victoire asked, looking slightly worried.

"Oh, he's telling them right now," he said as he walked back over to her and thought of James announcing it to his family. "I know he is."

In two minutes time, Harry, Ginny, Albus, and Lily would all be well aware of what James had seen; Ron, Hermione, and their family, too—if they happened to be with the Potters, which they probably were. In a few hours time, the entire Weasley family would know. His grandmother would know. Everyone he knew would know. The secret was out.

"I guess it was only a matter of time," she said heavily, her eyes darting down the platform after James. "I should probably write to my parents before they find out from everyone else."

"So, I should be expecting a visit from your mum, then?" he asked, forcing a small grin. "And you'll be way up at school safe and sound while I get to hear about it back here?"

She swatted him before she kissed him again. He was happy to see that the inevitable fall out wasn't distracting her from the fact that they only had a few minutes left together. Though, he was sure that, just like he was, she would soon be thinking of what exactly was going to happen once everyone did find out.

They manage to continue kissing uninterrupted for the next few minutes, until the train's whistle suddenly blew and announced its departure. Heavy steam began billowing from the smokestack as the platform began to clear itself of the last remaining students.

"Shit," he said. "You have to go."

"Christmas time," she mumbled.

"It'll be nothing." He kissed her forehead. "I know it."

"Just so you know," she grinned, "I might even write to you."

He laughed. "I think I might consider writing you, too. We'll see."

"You better," she said as she made a motion to playfully punch him. He didn't let her connect, and instead grabbed her arm as it came towards him. He pulled her into one last, long, drawn-out-as-long-as-he-could kiss before finally letting go. He really didn't want to let go.

"Have fun, okay?" he said once she took a few steps towards the train. "I love you and all of the other mushy stuff that you hear me say when no one else is around."

She laughed and she stepped onto the train. "I love you, too."

He leaned back against the wall and smiled at her before the train slowly lurched forward. She quickly waved at him and he waved back, watching until the train pulled far enough away that he could no longer even see the car she had boarded. He leaned his head back and stared as the back of the train sped off after the front. Even once the last car had disappeared from the station, he stood there staring straight ahead while the smells and sounds continued to invade his senses.

He picked himself up off the wall. That was that, then. She hadn't cried this go around, and that was a good thing. Now, he only had four months until he got to see her again. Four long, lonely, sexually frustrating months. He sighed before he started walking back towards the barrier. Four months, four months, four months…

With Victoire now gone, everything else occurring in his life suddenly came flooding back into perspective. He still had to make that presentation in a few hours, which he'd almost managed to put out of his mind for the last twenty minutes. Simon was having a kid, which reminded him that he'd have to go talk to him and see how he was hanging in there. Then there was also the fact that he'd have to go by Harry's given what had just happened…

He clearly had some explaining to do.


	9. Confessions and Lies

"What flavor did you get?" asked Lily Potter as she sat across from Ted at an outside table in Diagon Alley, observing him as he spooned ice cream into his mouth.

"You were standing there when I ordered it," Ted said, holding his dish towards her so she could see inside of it.

"I forgot." She leaned forward to look. "It's chocolate?"

"Nope, vanilla comes in brown now."

She made a face.

Ted smiled. "Yes, it's chocolate."

Lily hummed, as if satisfied with that answer before returning to her own strawberry ice cream.

It was only a week into the month of September, but the feeling in the air already conveyed a definite change in season. A cool breeze was whipping its way through the streets of Diagon Alley, where Ted and Lily found themselves sitting at the ice cream parlor that was near his flat. Soon enough, the temperature would start dropping to the point where sitting and eating ice cream in the outdoors wasn't going to be a very welcomed idea, but for now the weather was agreeable enough. They might as well relish the opportunity while they had it.

Today was the first full day off with nothing to do that Ted had had since before Victoire had left, and he had decided to spend it with Lily. It had been an idea that had struck him after Harry had mentioned that Lily was acting awfully lethargic lately now that both James and Albus were away at school. She apparently spent most of her time away in her room, reading or drawing; only coming down for meals and chores, which—though Ted didn't mention this to Harry—was how Lily had always been. Both of her parents claimed that they weren't worried about her, per se, but they just didn't like that she seemed to enjoy cooping herself away on her own more often than not. Of course, after years of dealing with James and Albus and their gregarious natures, Ted had a feeling that Harry and Ginny were just unsure of what to do with themselves when left with only the mild mannered, quiet child. If someone wasn't running, yelling, jumping, and breaking things, then something was off in their household.

Hearing all of this had only made Ted feel a special sort of kinship with Lily, more than he did with James and Albus. James and Albus were outgoing kids with a sense of extreme purpose. They were bold, and people were always aware when either was in a room. Lily tended to blend, letting her brothers or her cousins garner all the attention while she observed from the sidelines. It reminded Ted of when he had been smaller and surrounded by bigger personalities. She actually very much reminded him of when he had been nine. He had enjoyed reading, and he hadn't ever really minded being on his own. He had been shy and sometimes a bit of an oddball—though, he had been more of one than Lily could ever claim to be. He had been a skinny, little, blue-haired metamorphmagus with no parents. She was a skinny, little, freckled, red-head with a very supportive family.

Still, spending the day with her was the least Ted could do. It had to be weird for her to be the only one her parents now doted on; especially after spending that last nine years of her life being the second act to James and Albus's antics. It's not as though it was intentional of course, but it seemed this was often the case with quiet younger siblings who were unintentionally overshadowed by their more attention seeking brothers or sisters.

"So," Lily said as she sat up straight and stared at Ted. She had strawberry ice cream on her upper lip. "Do you miss Victoire?"

He smirked at her as he stuck a mouthful of ice cream in his mouth. Ever since Lily had found out about him and Victoire, she'd been rather fixated by the idea of it all. She had endless questions—how it happened, when it happened, why it happened, where it happened—and had been more excited than anyone at the news. "Yep."

She smiled at his reaction, the ice cream still sitting on her lip unnoticed. "Are you going to marry her?"

He coughed once and went wide-eyed. "We haven't been together that long, Lil."

She stared at him as if that didn't answer her question.

"I have no idea," he said as he returned to digging around in his dish with his spoon. "How about you let us date for a bit before we start talking about…_that_?"

"Do you know," Lily added quickly, "that if you and Victoire get married, then we'll officially be related?"

"Oh, really?" Ted asked lazily, pretending not to be aware of this fact.

She nodded. "See, because she's my cousin…"

"Yeah?"

She made an obvious face. "You know she is."

He laughed.

"Anyway, since she's my cousin, that means if you married her, you'd be my…" She stopped and pulled her nearby sketch book towards her, which she used to draw and write down any interesting observations in. She carried it with her everywhere and was currently flipping through the pages looking for something specific. "I wrote it down." She landed on page and scanned it, trailing her finger down the length of spine as she did so. "Cousin-in-law! You'd be my cousin-in-law."

Ted stuck his spoon in his mouth to clean the ice cream off before pulling it out to absently exam it. "You seem to have this all figured out."

"It's not hard," she said. "Mum and Dad helped me figure out what you'd be called, though. I didn't know you'd be an in-law until they told me."

Ted looked away from his spoon. "Your parents have been talking about this?"

She nodded.

He pulled a quick, slightly off putting, face. He'd knew people would talk about him and Victoire after they'd found out, but like this? Talking about marriage? And Harry of all people? Harry was supposed to be on his side. Not on crazy side where people were talking about he and she getting married after—what they assumed—was just a week. That was just mental.

It had been a funny sort of fallout once the fact that he and Victoire were now together came out of the bag. After James had witnessed the two of them kissing at King's Cross, Ted had known it was only a matter of time before Harry and Ginny found out and his secret was no more. It being revealed like that hadn't been at all how he and Victoire had planned it to happen, but of course, things never seem to turn out as planned.

But it had been the day after Victoire had gone back to school that Ted—in an attempt to get his life back on a pre-Victoire schedule—had gone over to Harry's to clear the air. He had braced himself for the comments, but at the same time, he'd convinced himself there was a possibility that James may not have told anyone. Perhaps he'd been deterred by a friend after leaving Ted's sight and had never met up with his parents again? Maybe James just gotten straight on the train and the secret was still theirs for the telling. There was a chance…

"You were kissing Victoire?" Ginny had asked the second she had answered her front door to find Ted standing on her doorstep. "Victoire?!"

So much for secrets.

Ted sighed. "You talked to James…"

Ginny was smiling. "You and Victoire."

"Is that Teddy?" came the sound of Lily's voice, which was soon accompanied by the sight of her little red head poking itself outside behind her mother. "Teddy!" Her expression turned instantly curious. "Is it true!?"

"I'm well, thanks," said Ted airily. "Nice of you two to ask. My presentation with the Russian blokes went amazing by the way, which is fantastic…"

Ginny smiled at him as he spoke, but Lily continued to look up at him with big, expectant eyes. Apparently, neither of them were moving from the doorway until he answered their question.

"All right," he said, glancing quickly at the ground and then back up again, "so, me and Victoire…"

"It is true!" Lily yelled.

Ginny laughed and stepped to one side, patting Ted on the shoulder as he passed. "How in the world?" she asked. "I mean, Ted, where did this come from?"

He shrugged as he made his way to the sofa to sit. "I don't know. Somewhere along the way, it just sort of happened."

Lily bounced into the spot next to him. "How? When?"

He gave Lily a funny look before glancing at Ginny in the hopes she'd tell Lily that these sorts of details didn't matter. However, Ginny had already sat across from him on the opposite sofa and looked as if she, too, was waiting for an answer.

"How…" he mumbled. "I don't know. How does this stuff ever happen? One day I just felt different about her."

"When?" Lily asked as she sat up on her knees.

He'd been trying to sound vague on purpose, only because he wasn't entirely sure of what he was supposed to say. In the little over a day that he and Victoire had been apart, he'd already received a letter from her saying to try to give away as few details as possible. She claimed she wouldn't owl her parents until she knew what he was telling people, having assumed that everyone would obviously get to him first and that they should get their stories straight. It was a great idea in theory, except that it left him to do all the talking.

"Over the last month," he lied, picking his words carefully and trying to make things seem as though they really had just happened recently. "I started realizing how I felt. We just spent a lot of time together once she got back from France and things started changing."

"How long exactly have the both of you been…?" Ginny stopped. "A week? Two weeks? A month?"

Ted inhaled slowly. He was such a bad liar. "Um, I'm not really sure."

She stared at him curiously. He felt like she could read right through him.

"Are you two dating?" Lily asked.

"Uhhh…" he mumbled. "Yeah, you could call it that, I guess."

"You guess?" Ginny asked.

He felt like he was aboard a sinking ship. He needed to come up with something fast. Something believable; something that didn't make him look like he had no idea what he was talking about, when, in fact, he had no idea what he was talking about.

"I went to King's Cross yesterday to tell Vic how I felt," he said quickly, the words coming out before he really knew what he was saying. "Yeah, see, we'd spent a lot of time together lately, and we sort of had a few close calls here and there. I had wanted to tell her how I felt earlier, and I could tell she wanted to say something to me, but neither of us had done it."

Ginny nodded, though she still looked a little skeptical.

"I…" Ted continued, before he quickly swallowed. "I didn't want her to leave for school without knowing how I felt, so I turned up at the station to find her and finally tell her." He paused. "Which is what happened." He paused again. "Honestly."

"And she felt the same way!" Lily said with a bright smile.

"Yeah." Ted nodded. "Yeah. Then we ended up kissing. That's when James found us."

Ginny started to smile; the previous questions that had been evident in her eyes seemingly gone. "That's actually very sweet, Teddy."

She believed it. Ted wasn't sure how he'd come up with that story as quickly as he had, but she'd believed it. He had to admit that it was a pretty good story. Maybe he wasn't such bad liar after all. It's not like he wanted to lie to Ginny, but he just couldn't risk Victoire's parents finding out the truth through word of mouth.

"It's romantic," Lily said with a silly grin plastered across her face. She suddenly gave Ted a pat on the shoulder, as if she was proud of him.

"It is," Ginny agreed. "Leave it to James to interrupt, though."

Ted smiled a little.

"Well, I think it's fantastic," Ginny added. "You two have been friends for so long…" She trailed off. "I'm curious to see what Bill says."

Ted inhaled slowly. "I don't know if I am."

"Oh," Ginny said in a reassuring tone, "I'm sure he and Fleur will get a kick out of it." She shrugged. "I don't see why they wouldn't."

"I'm really excited," Lily said before the sound of a doorknob rattling caught the attention of the room. Both Ted and Ginny turned to see the front door open, where in walked Harry and Ron Weasley. They were both laughing about something as they entered, clearly looking as though they'd had a fairly good day at work. It took them both a moment to notice Ted sitting on the sofa, though once they did, their laughter tapered off to more amused looking smiles.

"Well, if it isn't the latest suitor," Ron joked.

Ted forced a smile. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"This is what you get for keeping secrets," Harry said with a lazy shrug.

"And how long had this little romance been going on?" Ron asked as he took the seat next to Ginny.

"Not long, Uncle Ron," said Lily. "It was only just yesterday when Ted told Vicki how he felt. That's why they were kissing."

Ted pointed at Lily. She was more than welcome to answer all of these questions for him. "What she said."

Ron nodded a little. "So, how long have you had this figured out?"

"A few weeks," Ted said, glancing at Harry. He was giving him a skeptical look similar to the one Ginny had been giving him earlier, only his expression didn't seem to show any signs of disappearing. "It just sort of culminated yesterday when I went to King's Cross to tell her how I felt."

"Well," Ron said with an impressed nod, "it was certainly a bit of a shock. Even Harry was surprised, and he always seems to have a general idea of what's going on with you."

Ted looked at Harry, who had just shrugged at what Ron had said.

"Well, I, for one, think it's really great," Ginny said.

"I do too," added Lily.

"Who said it wasn't great?" Ron asked. "I think we all think it's great, we're just a little surprised."

"Ted," said Harry. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He started walking towards his den office. "In here?"

"Sure." He nodded slowly and stood to follow after him down the nearest hallway. Harry had left the door open behind him, and after Ted had entered, he shut the door behind him and gestured for Ted to have a seat. He did as he was asked, making his way over to the small sofa at the side of the room. It was the very same sofa he had sat on a hundred times in the past whenever Harry was busy doing something behind his desk. He'd even fallen asleep on the thing a few times as a kid when Harry had ended up getting busy while taking care of Auror business.

"What's up?" Ted asked, attempting to add a casual inflection to his tone even though he'd already been anticipating this conversation. He wasn't sure exactly what it was about, but he knew Harry probably had something to say considering the people involved, and the fact that Ted hadn't mentioned something about this sooner. He usually told Harry everything; him having feelings for his niece was probably one of those things he expected to hear about.

Harry seemed very business like as he sat down behind his desk and leaned his chair back. He stared at Ted with a funny sort of expression. "So, you've got a thing for Victoire?"

Ted nodded.

"And you just managed to tell her how you felt yesterday?" he asked. "You wanted to do it before she headed back to school, I'm assuming?"

He stared at him for a moment before nodding again.

Harry nodded at well, though his face was pensive. "Did you know how she'd react?"

"I had a feeling," he shrugged, "but you never know how things will turn out. I wasn't positive."

"Your feeling had to be pretty strong," Harry continued, "considering all those questions you had about making long distance relationships work the other night." He glanced at him. "It almost seemed like you were planning it before it happened."

Ted continued to stare at him. He'd forgotten that he'd asked him about that. Shit.

"How long have you two really been together?" Harry asked.

"Since the Quidditch World Cup," Ted said without hesitation. "For the last month."

Harry smiled a little and nodded. "A month, huh?"

"I wanted to say something, but—"

"You do know what you're doing, right?" Harry interrupted.

"With Victoire?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, yes."

"I just mean," Harry continued, "she's not any other girl, Ted. If things don't work out, she's not going anywhere."

Ted nodded. "I know."

"She's family, and as far as I'm concerned you are too. Though, for all intents and purposes concerning the two of you being together, you're obviously not."

He nodded again.

"I just want to make sure this is something you've really considered," he said seriously, leaning further back in his chair. "I know at your age, you two have feelings and you act on them, but—"

"Harry."

Harry looked at him.

"I'm in love with her."

Harry let his chair fall back forward. "Oh yeah?"

"And you don't need to tell me that 'we're young and you've only been together for a bit, so you don't know,'" he said quickly. "I've known her my entire life. I know her. I knew before I pursued this that this was something I really wanted to do, otherwise—"

"Ted."

Ted looked at him.

"I wasn't going lecture you," he said. "I was younger than you are now when I realized I was in love with Ginny. A girl I'd know since we were younger. You and Victoire are already world's closer than Ginny and I were when we got together, so don't think I'm going to sit here and tell you how you should feel."

Ted looked at the floor and nodded a little. "I appreciate that."

Harry sighed. "It's a little reassuring to hear that you're really serious about this. I take it she feels the same way?"

"That what she tells me," he said, laughing a little. "I sure hope so."

Harry hummed. "Why all the secrets, then? This story about confronting her at King's Cross. Why the hiding?"

"Honestly," Ted said, "we just wanted to be able to spend some time together without her family giving us a hard time. You know Bill and Fleur can be overprotective. I've always had a lot of freedom compared to most of the blokes that come around, so…" He shrugged.

Harry nodded. "Right. They won't think twice if Victoire misses curfew hanging with her friend Ted, but with her boyfriend…"

He grinned.

"And you don't want people finding out you've been sneaking around, so you've got this whole King's Cross story cooked up."

"I actually came up with that on the spot," Ted admitted.

"It's good," he said. "It's sweet. A little corny, mind you, but sweet."

Ted shrugged. "I do what I can."

Harry took a moment to laugh before he sighed loudly. "Remind me to start taking notes. Lily's getting older after all. I need to start keeping my eyes open for this sort of stuff."

Ted made a face. "Lily's never allowed to date."

Harry looked back at him, a very particular grin playing at his features. "We all used to say the same thing about Victoire…"

A huge weight had been lifted off of Ted's shoulders at being able to tell Harry the truth, though just being able to tell _anyone_ about he and Victoire—no matter what the story was—had been a huge relief. Sure, Simon had known, and his various coworkers had been told her was seeing someone, but it was nice to be able to tell some of the other people that he cared about what was going on. It was nice to admit to a secret that he actually wanted to tell people, versus the ones he was always trying to keep covered up. Hell, now that it was out, he actually wanted to brag. As far as he was concerned, his girlfriend was amazing.

Still, as amazing as she was, this marriage talk that Lily was bringing up here over ice cream was a bit much. He'd been with Celia for ages, yet never once had anyone ever asked him if he wanted to marry her. He'd been with Victoire for a few weeks and suddenly it was a topic worth discussing? He was only nineteen after all. Victoire was only seventeen! Sure, everyone was referring to _one day_, but he just wanted to enjoy today first. Not that he could enjoy today considering she was miles and miles away at school, but that wasn't the point…

"Hey," said Lily, snapping Ted out of his thoughts and back to the scene in front of him. She was finishing her ice cream and wiping her face, which she finally seemed to realize had something on it. "What shall we do next?"

"Anything you want," Ted said. "We can go Flourish & Blotts and see if they have any cool new books. You mentioned earlier you were looking for something new to read."

Her face lit up and she nodded as if she thought that was a good idea.

Ted checked his watch. It was a little after noon, which was more than apparent given that the street was now filling up with people running errands on their lunch breaks. The bookshop may be a little crowded, but it wouldn't be too bad. He could actually use a few new books now that he had more free time.

"Teddy?" Lily said.

"Yeah?" he asked as he wiped his mouth on his napkin before pulling out his wand. With a quick sweeping gesture, he and Lily's trash went straight into a nearby rubbish bin.

"What did Uncle Bill think of you and Victoire being together?"

He laughed a little. "I'm not sure. I haven't heard anything from Victoire about it."

"Do you want to know?"

He considered this. Sure, he wanted to know, but it wasn't life or death. He wasn't in any rush. Well, then again, he wasn't unless her parents were mad for some reason. If that was the case, then he'd certainly like some notice. As it was, his last letter from Victoire had said that she was planning on writing her parents when she got the chance, but he hadn't heard from her about what their response had been. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I suppose I do," he said as he stood up. "Why?"

Lily half-smiled and glanced at something just beyond him. "I was just curious." She suddenly forced a full smile. "Hi, Uncle Bill. Hi, Uncle George."

Ted grinned at her. "Funny, Lil."

"Hi, Teddy," said a sudden voice that sounded an awfully lot like George Weasley's. Ted felt a hand on his shoulder. "You'll never guess what we heard…"


	10. A Letter Home

At a table in the Gryffindor common room, Victoire sat staring down at piece of parchment with the words _Dear Mum and Dad _written on it. That was all she'd managed to write before drawing a blank on what else to say. How exactly did you tell your parents that you were you dating your oldest friend and hadn't bothered to mention it? How was she supposed to reassure them that all of those unsuspecting times that they let her go over to his flat during the last month _weren't _far less platonic encounters than they anticipated, even though they were? She had a feeling that merely mentioning that she forgot wasn't exactly going to cut it.

"What do you have so far?" asked Whit from the seat beside her as she glanced at Victoire's parchment.

"Dear Mum and Dad," Victoire said.

Dominique laughed from across the table. "Well, there's a start."

"What am I supposed to say?" Victoire asked as she dropped her quill and leaned her head back. "Hey, Mum and Dad, sorry I forgot to tell you this huge detail of my life involving Ted. It just slipped my mind."

Whit shrugged. "Honesty is the best policy."

"If she was going to be honest," Dominique said, "then she'd tell them that she purposely _didn't_ tell them because she wanted to go over to Ted's flat and do who knows what with him without being told she wasn't allowed."

"I can't be honest with them," Victoire said. "Ted's already told everyone that he came to King's Cross to confess his feelings and that that's when we got together."

"Do you think Mum and Dad are going to buy that?" Dominique asked. "Because I think they're going to put two and two together and realize that there was a reason you spent so much time together over the last month."

Victoire realized she had a very good point, but that still didn't mean it had to be that way. According to Ted's story—which she had to give him immense credit for after coming up with under pressure—it was completely plausible for them to have spent the last month falling for each other, only to just get together at King's Cross. It made perfect sense. She just had to make it make sense to her parents. She had to make it make without-a-doubt sense.

"I don't see why they wouldn't," Victoire said as she looked back down at the paper in front of her. "That's why I have to make this letter count. What should I write? Dear Mum and Dad…then what?"

"Dear Mum and Dad," Dominique began. "I'm shagging Ted now, just thought you ought to know. Love, Victoire."

Victoire's eyes narrowed. "You're not funny."

Dominique smirked. "You might as well start being honest at some point."

"Not that it's _any_ of your business," she said, "but we haven't done _that_ yet. So therefore, writing it wouldn't make much sense, would it?"

"I don't think that under any circumstance it would make sense to write that to your parents," Whit muttered.

"I was kid—"

"Yet, huh?" Dominique interrupted. "Yet indicates future intent, you know? Like you're planning on it."

Victoire stared at her. "I'm aware of what I said."

Dominique made a face. She had apparently expected an entirely different response to that.

"Anyway," Victoire said as she waved off her sister. "Dear Mum and Dad…"

"What are you waiting for?" Dominique asked.

"I'm waiting to come up with something to write," she said obviously. "If I knew what to say, I would have written it already—"

"No, I meant with Ted."

Victoire screwed her face up curiously. "What are you talking about?"

"You two spent almost every second together over the last month, but you didn't do it? I would have thought you'd have gone at it thirty times by now."

"Why are you so interested in what we do?" Victoire asked. "And we've been together of a month. Did you expect me to shag him the first day we got together?"

"Actually…"

Victoire's jaw dropped. "We've been together for a month!"

"That's plenty of time."

Victoire laughed. "Maybe to you." She stopped and looked up at her. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"If it's the right person, why wait? You say you love him, so what are you waiting for?"

"Believe it or not, there are some things I'd like leave and look forward to in the future."

Dominique laughed at that. "If you would have asked me a few months ago that Victoire Weasley was actually anticipating seeing Ted's skinny, naked arse, I would have told you there was no possible way—"

"Who says I haven't already seen it?" Victoire said coolly, deciding to push her sister to her limits. "I don't have to have sex with him to see him naked. I could have—"

Dominique's face went blank and she pushed her chair away from the table. "Okay, I can't play this game anymore. Talking about you seeing Ted…." She grabbed her bag and stood up. "I can't do it. You win."

Victoire rolled her eyes, but smiled as her sister disappeared. She made a mental note to herself to keep that little tidbit of information in mind if she ever needed to make Dominique disappear at the drop of hat.

She returned to staring back down at the mostly blank piece of parchment in front of her. She suddenly couldn't help but wonder why her parents hadn't written to her yet. They had to know about everything by now, but she'd already been back at school for a week without as much as a word from them. This wasn't uncommon usually, but if her mother was aware that she had a boyfriend—let alone Ted—she would have received some sort of message by now. It was possible that her parents hadn't found out right away, but after a week they would know. It was how her family worked.

There had been no letter though, which led her to believe that they were either mad or waiting for her side of the story. She wasn't even sure what they may have heard, knowing that information had a tendency to dilute itself the more people it passed through. For all she knew, her parents may have only heard that she and Ted were kissing at King's Cross and that was it. They could have formulated a hundred conclusions from that. It was why she had to make sure this letter was perfectly written. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

She tapped the tip of her quill to the parchment and thought of Ted. Unlike her parents, she'd already received two letters from him since she'd been at school. He'd only written her seven times all of last year, and already he was almost halfway to that point in one week's time.

In both letters, the main points had been a mixture of him trying to hammer out the details of their story and him informing her of what was going on at home. While reading them, Victoire actually had to have a little laugh. What would start as a very business like tone would slowly give way to a sweeter, more personal letter about three paragraphs in. It almost seemed that Ted didn't register who he was writing to upon starting his letter, only to remember halfway through and attempt to make up for it by being particularly sweet in the end. To Victoire, it seemed very Ted-like, and it always made her smile.

But it wasn't just Ted who was dealing with people now uncovering their relationship. Thanks to her sister, Louis had found out about her and Ted the second the train had left the station on September 1st. Dominique hadn't bothered to wait five minutes, and Louis was unsurprisingly shocked. What was surprising though, was that after Louis's initial reaction, he seemed to have no further comment on the matter. Unlike Dominique, when Victoire brought up the topic of keeping her relationship a secret, Louis didn't tease her or called her dumb for sneaking around; instead he only seemed mildly curious in how she'd managed to keep things so quiet without getting caught. She wished everyone kept as quiet on the matter as her brother had.

"Still nothing?" Whit asked, noticing that Victoire still had nothing more than _Dear Mum and Dad_ written.

Victoire shook her head. "I'm stuck."

"How about," Whit began, "as you may or may not have heard, Ted and I have started seeing each other."

"I don't hate that," Victoire said as she considered what she'd said. "It sounds a bit formal though, like I'm sort of apologizing."

"You are sort of apologizing."

"Oh, right. Obviously." She scribbled what Whit had said down, repeating the last line out loud as she wrote it. "Have started seeing each other…"

"And," Whit continued, "while I know I should have made light of this information sooner, I was unsure how things would turn out. I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to mention it until I knew for sure what was happening."

"Ooooh, good," Victoire said. "I can sort of turn this around and make it seem like I wanted to tell them, I was just afraid."

"Not too much, though," Whit said. "You want to accept full responsibility while not admitting to anything."

Victoire nodded as she scribbled and silently read back what she'd written. "This is a good start."

"Now you just have to tell them the story Ted told you about King's Cross, but play it up as being really romantic. Then add how you're serious about things with him. Mention how you care about him and that the feelings are real. That sort of thing. Tell them that you understand how this may be weird for them, but you hope that when you're home for the holidays, you can show them just how good you and Ted work together."

Victoire stared at her slightly slack jawed. "That's…that's brilliant. Where was all this twenty minutes ago?"

Whit smiled and shook her head before she went back to doing something in her Charms book.

Victoire set to work writing a variation of what Whit had just neatly outlined for her. After Whit had said it, it all seemed quite obvious the more she thought about it. That was Whit's specialty, of course. She had a tendency to make these sorts of things seem obvious. She was a born politician with her truth twisting abilities, though she hated when Victoire told her that.

"Can you believe Nicki?" Victoire asked as she continued to write. "What she said about thinking I'm a freak because I haven't slept with Ted after month?"

"Didn't you say you came close quite a few times?"

"Depends on what you're definition of close is," she said once she stopped writing. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with wanting to wait a bit. It's not like I don't want to, I just want to really want it. There's nothing wrong with wanting your first time to be special."

"I completely agree."

"Thank you," Victoire said with a nod of her head. "I just never pegged Nicki as being so," she grinned a little, "eager. It makes me thing she's going to give it up to the first boy who comes around." She laughed a little. "Actually, knowing her, that wouldn't surprise me. She'll probably insult them afterwards and then make them cry."

Whit smiled.

"Poor boy," she added with a heavy sigh as she picked up her quill and tried to find where she'd left off in her letter.

"You know your sister, she just likes to stir the pot," Whit said. "She did the same thing to me and Jack once or twice before you and Ted became a new distraction." She smiled. "So, I guess I have you to thank for her leaving us alone."

Victoire smirked. "Well, you're welcome."

"Plus," Whit said, her cheeks pinkening as she turned her attention away from her book and towards Victoire, "she really can't say that to us anymore."

"Can't say what?" Victoire asked, not looking up from her letter.

"To me and Jack, I mean. She can't tease us for not having…because we've…" She made an obvious face.

Victoire dropped her quill, wondering if Whit was taking this where she suspected she was taking this. "Because of what?"

"Jack and I…we…" She shrugged. "He and I have already…done it."

Victoire's jaw dropped. "And I'm just now hearing about this?"

"You were busy," she said.

"When was I busy?"

"With Ted."

"Whit," she said quickly, "we've been back at school for a week! A week where there's been no Ted in sight."

"It slipped my mind."

"It slipped your mind…" Victoire mumbled, making a doubtful face. "It's slipped your mind? How does having sex slip your mind?"

She shrugged.

"So, all those times I was telling you about what Ted and I have done," Victoire began, "you weren't at all reminded of this little detail?"

"I've never thought…" she said before trailing off. "I really did want to tell you after it happened, but then it just—"

"—slipped your mind." Victoire said, finishing for her.

"I'm telling you now," she said. "Better late than never."

"So? When, where, and how was it?" Victoire asked in one quick breath.

Whit seemed to consider this. "It happened that night after I saw you before you went over to Ted's. The night before school started again. We ended up at his place just sitting around and the next thing I know, it just ended up happening."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And how was it?"

Whit pursed her lips together and made a funny face. "It hurt."

Victoire started to laugh, though she instantly tried to keep it contained.

"A lot of people say it hurts your first time," Whit said quickly. "It's not just me."

"I actually think I've heard that," she said. "I hear it gets better, though."

"I hope so," she said quickly. "I wouldn't know since we've yet to do it again." She sighed. "I don't know."

"I actually thought about doing it that night," Victoire said distantly. "I know I just said I was trying to wait, but…" She stopped. "You know how I told you what ended up happening that night? Before Simon turned up?"

Whit nodded.

"It's just," she continued, "had he not turned up," she shook her head, "I don't know what would have happened."

"Did you want to?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I was just really enjoying the moment with Ted." She glanced back down at her letter. She knew she had to finish writing it, but she suddenly had the urge to write to Ted instead.

"Hey, Jane," said a voice that made Victoire look up. It was Jack, accompanied by a small crew that included Louis, Sarah, and Flynn Taggart, another sixth-year friend of theirs.

Victoire glanced at Whit before she smiled at Jack. "Hiya, stud."

Whit kicked her under the table, though Jack just stared at her curiously. "Sorry?"

"Never mind," Victoire said as she turned to her brother, who was pulling out a chair to sit down. Behind him, Flynn and Sarah were talking animatedly about something.

"Hey," Louis said casually. "What are you up to?"

"Trying to write a letter to Mum and Dad."

"Are you telling them about Ted?"

She nodded before Louis was distracted by Sarah tapping on his shoulder.

"Lou, for the record, you're an idiot," she said, though she was smiling while she said it.

"Wait, why?" Louis asked, suddenly looking a little alarmed. "What did I do?"

Sarah laughed and turned away across the common room with Flynn following after her; he was also laughing about something.

Louis continued to look concerned as he watched them go. "Wait, why am I an idiot?" he called after her.

Victoire stared at him. "Why do you care?"

He snapped his head back towards her. "I don't."

Her eyes narrowed. "Lately, it seems like you're hanging out with Nicki's friends as much as she is."

"You mean, Sarah?" he asked, sounding bored. "She's my friend, too. And…" He shrugged and glanced off in the direction she disappeared in, "she obviously just realizes how much more fun I am compared to Nicki. People often do."

"You're a brat."

Louis smiled and leaned forward to see what she had she had written.

"Dear Mum and Dad," Victoire said as she picked it up to read it to him. "As you may or may not have heard, Ted and I have started seeing each other. While I know I should have made light of this information sooner, I was unsure how things would turn out. I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to mention it until I knew for sure what was happening." She stopped. "Then there's a bit more about how I'm serious about things with him and how things ended up happening."

His cocked his eyebrow. "It sounds too polished. Like you're running for Minister of Magic or something."

Victoire smiled at Whit, who was busy talking to Jack about something. She would probably be scowling right then had she heard that comment.

"How about," Louis began, "you just say, 'I lied. I'm sorry. P.S. I'm dating Ted.'"

"I didn't actually lie," she said. "It's not as if they asked me whether or not we were dating and I said we weren't."

"I really don't think they'll see it that way."

She blew a stray piece of hair out of her face. "Ted and I have a story worked out. It's a matter of following that."

"Yes, because more lying is naturally the best way to fix the lies you've already told."

She frowned.

"Do what you want," Louis smiled. "They're either going to believe you or not."

"Yes, but which do you think is more likely?"

He shrugged as if he didn't know. "Hard to say. Mum and Dad react differently to you than they do to me. I could convince Mum of anything, but Dad would always be skeptical. For you, it's generally the opposite."

Victoire nodded. He was right of course. Without her being in front of her father to personally lay the on charm, it was hard to say which way he'd go. As it was, she really had absolutely no clue what either of her parents could be thinking.


	11. A Little Chat

A/N: I like to think these two chapters end the first make-believe part I have to this story. :) After this, we move into part two (of three) And yes, the parts generally reflect Victoire's location. Also, because I never really realized it before, anonymous reviews are now on. I didn't know they were off until a of couple weeks ago and then I forgot about it until yesterday when I reminded by a reader. I went through four stories with no clue…lol. So, anyway, any of you out in anoy-land who've tried and been denied, it's now open. As for the rest of you who have had the capabilities, thanks for the reviews! :)

* * *

Ted turned his head, his neck craning as far as it would let him go. Lily hadn't been kidding. Not at all. Standing there with his hand now resting casually on Ted's shoulder was George Weasley. He had grinned once their gazes met, but Ted could barely keep his attention focused on him once he realized what else Lily hadn't been kidding about. Bill Weasley, who was standing just behind George, was staring at Ted with absolutely no recognizable emotion in his face. He didn't look mad, but he didn't look happy. He looked utterly unreadable.

"Hello, Lil," said George warmly, his hand still remaining ever present on Ted's shoulder. "What are you up to today?"

Lily glanced at Ted. "Teddy and I have just been spending the day together."

As she spoke, they were quickly joined by two other people; a boy of about ten and a girl of eight, both with rich, olive colored skin, dark hair, and a spattering of freckles across their faces. Ted immediately recognized them as George's children, Fred and Roxanne.

"Hi, Lily," said Roxanne brightly, pulling her wild, curly hair back into a weak looking ponytail.

"Hi, Roxie," Lily said with a small smile.

George took the opportunity to reach into his pocket and pull out several Galleons. He jingled them in his hand a few times before reaching out to hand them to Fred. "Lily, do me a favor. Go show Freddie and Roxie how to order ice cream inside."

Fred made a face. "Dad, I don't need Lily to show me how to do that. I'm ten. I'm a year older than she is."

"Well, do me a favor and _pretend_ like you do," said George, making a blunt head gesture towards the door of the ice cream parlor. He turned back to Ted and smiled a little. "Your Uncle Bill and I are going to have a little chat with Teddy."

Ted immediately glanced at Lily. He didn't know why he suddenly felt anxious, but there was something in the moment that made him wish she'd stay put. Nothing bad would happen with witnesses.

Lily threw Ted a sympathetic smile before she slowly stood from her seat. She waited for Fred and Roxanne to lead the way, and took several steps in an attempt follow after them towards the parlor. She stopped right outside the front door and threw Ted one last quick smile. It was a smile that had more forced awkwardness in it than a nine-year-old should know how to muster.

"Have a seat, Ted," George said as the hand on Ted's shoulder suddenly pushed him back down into his chair.

Ted didn't resist and dutifully sat without a word. Bill had taken Lily's vacant chair across the table from him, while George swung a chair from a nearby table around to sit.

"So, Ted," George continued. "How you been?"

"Um, fine," said Ted, doing everything in his power to avoid Bill's eyes. The fact that he still hadn't said anything was rather unnerving. Ted had always gotten on really well with Bill Weasley; since he was a kid, he'd considered Bill to be a great guy. He'd even go so far as to say he'd envied Victoire and her siblings for having such a wonderful father at times. After all, Bill was the 'always rational, very even-tempered, rarely raising his voice' kind of dad…It was something Ted really hoped wasn't about to change as he sat here.

"That's good," George said, nodding quickly and glancing at his brother. Unlike Bill, George seemed to have plenty to say. "You know, Bill and I were just talking earlier. Weren't we, Bill?"

Bill's eyebrow raised and his head nodded slightly, but he still didn't say anything. He seemed to have the 'intimidating father of your girlfriend' act down pat, whether he was trying to be or not. There was a powder keg-like mentality about him, as if the wrong thing could set him off at any moment. The scars on his face from having been mauled by a werewolf in his twenties only seemed to add to the persona.

"And he told me the most amusing story," George continued. "I almost couldn't believe it when I'd heard. But then again, I could. It's never been _that_ far-fetched of an idea."

Ted didn't say anything. His eyes merely flickered between George and an empty spot on the table.

"It concerns you, of course," George said with a smile. "But I think you already have an idea of where I'm going with this, don't you?"

Ted nodded slowly, almost barely. Given the weird tension, he wasn't sure he wanted to admit to anything. As it was, he was about three seconds away from denying ever having met Victoire.

George suddenly laughed before he looked at Bill. "He looks a little scared."

Bill cracked a smile and spoke for the first time. "Why would he be scared?"

George rounded back on Ted. "He'd have to tell us that. Maybe he has a reason to be?"

"I don't," Ted said, finally looking at Bill. "At least, I hope I don't."

"Oh, that's still to be determined," said George.

Bill smirked a little, but sat up straighter in his chair and looked Ted dead in the eyes. "I hear that you and my daughter have decided to change your relationship around."

"The sort change that entails snogging at King's Cross," George added, stretching his arms as far as he could reach behind his head, "which I 'd say is a fairly large change."

Ted nodded once. "Well...sort of…I mean, yes."

"Sir," George added. "Don't forget the sir. He's your girlfriend's father, it's only right."

Bill looked at George. "Since when have you, of all people, ever adhered to any sort of social rules?"

"Since it's funny in this particular instance," George said, gesturing to Ted.

Ted stared between the two of them. He now wasn't sure if he was really being put on trial here or whether they were having a hearty laugh at his expense. Worse yet, they were more than allowed to do either and he couldn't say anything either way. He'd just have to sit here and take it.

"You don't have to call me sir," Bill said to Ted, throwing George a weary look.

"Mr. Weasley?" George suggested.

Bill shook his head. "That makes me feel old coming from him."

"You are old."

Bill gestured to Ted while still speaking to his brother. "You think we can get back to this?"

"Yeah, right, of course," George said, turning his attention back to Ted.

"I just want to know what's going on," Bill said bluntly. "I hear this story from Ginny saying that James saw this, and that you've told her that." He gestured to Ted. "I've gotten no word from Victoire, and I still have no clue what the hell is actually going on."

Ted stared at him. _Great._ Victoire hadn't written to her parents yet. The one thing he had hoped she would do was square things away with her parents so that this didn't happen. The one thing he _really_ hadn't wanted to deal with was explaining things to them. He and Victoire had always joked about Bill or Fleur cornering him for answers, but now that the reality was staring him in the face, it wasn't all that funny.

"Let's just cut to the chase," said George. "Are you, or are you not, in some sort of relationship with Victoire?"

Ted took a deep breath. Moment of truth. "I am."

"So, James really did see you two at King's Cross?" George asked.

Ted nodded. "He did."

"I saw you at King's Cross," said Bill. "When you told me you were headed to see James and Albus off. Seems that was a lie."

Ted glanced at George, who was watching him intently. Upon looking back at Bill, the look in his eyes was hard and aggravated. He clearly was not a man who enjoyed being lied to. Not even a little bit.

More than anything, he just didn't want to set Bill off further. He had plans to be with Victoire for a very long time, and starting things off with her father on such a bad note was not something he was looking to do. Thus, he knew he had two options to weigh. He could come clean about everything and be completely honest, which would either earn him bonus points or screw him completely, utterly, and beyond repair. Or he could attempt to continue the biggest lie he'd ever have to tell in order to save face. But was that worth it? Bill wasn't stupid; there was a chance he'd see right through Ted, and then he'd be in this even deeper.

Damned if he did, damned if he didn't…

Ted took another deep breath, swearing to some higher magical power that if he could just get through this unscathed, he'd never lie about anything like this again.

"I did lie about that," Ted said finally, resorting to the lie he'd told Ginny before, "but at the time, I didn't even really know what I was doing there. I'd gone to see Victoire, but I didn't know what was going to happen. I didn't even know if I was going to go through with it."

"Through with what?" George asked.

"With telling her how I felt about her," Ted lied.

"Which is what exactly?" asked Bill, his tone still stern. "How serious is this?"

Ted's face immediately went earnest. Finally, something he didn't have to lie about. "I care about her a lot."

Bill just stared at him.

Ted sat forward in his chair. "Bill— Sir. Mr. Weasley."

George laughed.

"I know things seem weird, and this news is probably really unexpected…"

Bill made a throaty noise that seemed to say he certainly agreed with that.

"But, I'm mad about Victoire," he continued. "Your daughter is amazing, which…" Ted's tone turned awkward, "you already know, I'm sure." He sat up even straighter and forced his voice to be confident. "This isn't me trying bullshit you into making you think I'm serious about things when I'm not. I am very serious about things. I'm serious about Victoire. I want to say she's serious about me too, but only she can convince you of that. I can just speak for myself."

Bill continued stare at him, though George seemed to be thoughtfully mulling over what he had just said. They were both silent for a long, uncomfortable moment, until Bill finally spoke.

"Well, I appreciate you admitting that, Ted."

Ted forced a half smile, though Bill's powder keg mentality remained every present. Ted still didn't want to chance saying the wrong thing.

"But..." Bill continued, "I'm not convinced that this little relationship of yours hasn't been going on for longer than I'm being led to believe."

"And that would be a very fair assumption to make," Ted said, adapting his tried and true 'honest, but ambiguous' technique. "We did spend a lot of time together over the past month."

Bill watched Ted's face, seemingly looking for any cracks of insincerity or falsity. "I don't like being lied to," he said quickly, "particularly in the interests of my children. I'm telling you this so you know."

Ted nodded. "Absolutely."

"I was young once," Bill added. "I get that you kids get thrills out of sneaking around and thinking you're one step ahead of the rest of us. I do know that. But what I want you to know is that I'm also aware of a lot more than you think."

Ted's face went blank, but he nodded dutifully.

"That being said," Bill said in a concluding sort of tone, "my daughter's well being is my first and number one priority. Now, I like you, Ted. I always have. You're a good guy." His eyes narrowed. "Don't screw that up."

Ted shook his head.

"Jeez, Bill…" George mumbled, though he looked as if he was trying to not laugh.

Bill's expression turned somewhat more relaxed after that, though he just as quickly glanced back at Ted. "Do me a favor, will you?"

"Um, sure," said Ted.

"I'm sure you'll hear from my daughter far more than I will," he said. "Tell her to not to forget to write home from time to time."

"I can do that," Ted said quickly, just as—and as far as Ted was concerned, the timing couldn't have been more welcomed—all three kids returned from having gone to fetch Fred and Roxanne's ice cream. Both of George's children had returned with enormous sundaes in their hands, both of which seemed to entail every possible topping and condiment the parlor had to offer. Roxanne's looked bigger than her head.

George's eyes boggled at the sight of them. "What on earth are those _things_?"

"We were hungry," Fred said, reaching into his pocket to dig out a few Knuts as change.

"That's it?" George asked, glancing at the change in his son's hand. "You spent _all_ of that on ice cream?"

Fred grinned as Roxanne offered her father her spoon. "Like you always say, Dad, go big or don't bother."

"They got you there," said Bill, right as Lily appeared at Ted's side. She smiled at him, seemingly happy to see that he was still in one piece.

"You know what the funny thing is?" George said as he helped Roxanne dig into her sundae. "We used to say this would happen one day." He gestured to Ted with the spoon in his hand before pointing back at Bill. "Victoire and him. Remember? When they were kids?"

Bill shrugged and looked aimlessly towards the passerbyers in the street. "I was mostly joking."

"Yeah, well, you were hoping Victoire would avoid boys until she was forty," George added, looking down at Roxanne. "Do you think I could make you avoid boys until you're forty?"

She shook her head immediately. "I like boys already."

"Oh, wonderful," George muttered dryly before he pointed at Lily. "How about you, Lil?"

She blushed and shrugged sheepishly.

"Well," George said to Ted, "if you and Victoire end up married—"

Ted inhaled sharply. Not in front of Bill. Not in front of Bill. Not in front of Bill. The absolute last person this needed to be mentioned, joked about, or even hinted at around was her father. It was a sentiment Bill apparently shared if the now present glower was any indication.

"Victoire's not getting married any time soon," he said immediately.

"Neither am I," Ted said, almost reassuringly.

"If they did," Lily added, "Ted would be my cousin-in-law."

Ted closed his eyes. _Make it go away_.

"Mine too!" Roxanne said. "And Dad, he'd be your nephew-in-law." She looked at Bill. "And he'd be your son-in-law, Uncle Bill."

Bill instantly checked his watch and stood. "I need to get back to the bank. I'll see you all later." He glanced at Ted. "Don't be a stranger, Ted."

"Nice seeing you, Bill," Ted added awkwardly.

George watched as Bill walked off without another word, though it only took him a moment to turn back to Ted. "You know, once the initial shock wears off, I think he'll be rather pleased it's you and not someone else. He does like you, he was just very blindsided by the whole thing. How, I have no idea because, like I said, we've been joking about it since you and Victoire were in nappies. You'd at least think he'd considered the possibility at _some _point."

Ted forced a weak smile.

"My mum is positively giddy about it," George added. "When she'd heard, her face just lit up and she cooed for about an hour over how sweet it was." He swallowed a large bit of ice cream. "You know, back in the day, I believed for a brief second that my mum thought Bill and your mum," he pointed at Ted, "would make a good couple."

"Really?" Lily asked, though Ted could only wrinkle his nose in surprise.

"Yeah," he said, specifically to Lily. "Me, and your mum, and your Uncle Fred used to joke about it. Your grandmum has had some wacky ideas from time to time, but in this case, your Uncle Bill was already well in love with your Aunt Fleur, and Ted's mum was already well in love with Ted's dad. Thankfully, that never made it to fruition."

"That would have been weird," Fred said, looking over at Ted. "You and Victoire could have been brother and sister."

Ted blinked. This conversation had officially become the most bizarre conversation he'd ever had. He looked at Lily, feeling more than ready to leave. "Do you still want to go to Flourish & Blotts?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Fantastic," he said as he stood and forced a polite smile at everyone. "Always a pleasure, you three."

"See you around," said George.

Ted turned and walked away with Lily in tow. At least he could say that was over. Bill hadn't killed him and the other Weasleys were hopefully getting their shits and giggles out of their system. He knew he was due for a whole new round of jokes and cooing once he and Victoire were actually seen together in front of her family, but the hard part was over. The secret was out, the air was clear, and now he could enjoy his relationship without anymore weird surprises.

"I'm glad Uncle Bill wasn't upset," Lily said once they reached the bookstore. "You looked a little scared when he showed up."

Ted smiled at her. In an attempt to make good on his promise to the magical powers that got him out of that situation unscathed, he decided to cease with the unnecessary lying.

"You know, to be honest, I was a little."


	12. Quidditch Practice

On a Saturday morning in mid-September, Victoire found herself staring between two letters that she'd received in the post that morning—one from Ted and one from her parents. She had spent most of breakfast staring at them both, wondering which she should open first. She was afraid of what the one from her parents might say, so Ted's letter seemed like the clear option. Only...perhaps she should save Ted's for last. After reading the letter from her parents, she might need to read his as a means of cheering herself up.

"At least it's not a Howler," Whit said as the two of them—along with Jack, who was walking several yards in front of them—crossed the Hogwarts grounds towards the Quidditch pitch. The new Gryffindor team that had survived tryouts was having their first practice today, and Whit had managed to convince Victoire to come and sit with her while she watched. She'd claimed the weather was far too nice to stay indoors and that they both needed the break after such daunting weeks of school work.

"Jack, why are you rushing?" Whit yelled after him.

"I'm just—" He stopped speaking abruptly and for no real reason. He just continued walking several paces ahead of them.

Whit rolled her eyes, but Victoire was only barely even paying attention. As she walked, she held both letters in her hand and continued to examine them. Whit did have a point. Her mother had no problem sending Howlers out. Victoire had only experienced one in the past, but she'd seen Dominique receive at least five over the years. No Howler meant that her mother couldn't be too mad. But what if it was worse? What if it was so bad that she didn't even get a Howler?

"Are you just going to stare at it or are you going to open it?" Whit asked once they followed after Jack inside the pitch.

"I haven't decided yet," Victoire mumbled. "If I never read it, can I claim it never happened?"

Whit shook her head.

"Damn it." Victoire sighed and looked around at the massive empty stands that were surrounding her as she entered. Immediately, she noticed the annoyed faces of her sister and the other members of the Gryffindor team as they sat on the bottom of the bleachers with their Quidditch equipment. It only took one glance up to sky to see why the annoyance on their faces was present. Right then, the Ravenclaw team was circling around the pitch overhead; they were clearly practicing their own skills on what the Gryffindors likely considered their time.

"There you are," Dominique said, looking immediately at Jack. She pointed up at the sky. "They seem to think it's their time to use the pitch."

"No, it's not," said Jack, dropping his stuff on the grass and squinting up towards the sky. "I booked the pitch three days ago. I even double checked yesterday. I know for a fact it's our time."

Dominique shrugged. "Tell Davies that. I tried, but you know he's an idiot. He said he'd deal with it when you got here."

Victoire felt Whit tug on her arm and looked as she gestured further up the bleachers to where they could sit. She followed her up the stairs, about ten rows from the bottom, where they both plopped down on a spot that offered a decent view. Victoire pulled her letters back out and began glancing from one to the other, rethinking which one she should open first.

"Give me those," Whit said before she took them from her. She began shuffling them both together. "Close your eyes."

Victoire closed her eyes. All the while, the sounds of Whit shuffling the envelopes continued inches away from her.

"Pick one," Whit said suddenly.

Victoire absently reached out. She came in contact with something and opened her eyes to see which letter it was. Whit was already tearing at the sealed part of the envelope before reaching in and handing its contents to back to her. It was the letter from her parents.

"Who does he think he is?" said Dominique's voice as she appeared in front of them, the breeze whipping up her scarf. She was throwing a contemptuous look over her shoulder and towards the middle of the pitch, where Jack and Henry Davies were currently talking. "If I was Jack, I would punch him. He's doing this on purpose. He's probably trying to spy on us and see how our new Keeper and Chaser are."

"Ravenclaw does need all the help they can get," Victoire said without really paying attention. She was too busy concentrating on how not to unfold her parents' letter in an attempt to avoid reading it.

"Who did you get to replace Adams and Henman?" Whit asked casually.

Dominique stared at her. "_You're_ asking about Quidditch?"

Whit shrugged a little.

Victoire grinned. It was almost cute how hard Whit was trying to care about Quidditch considering it meant a lot to Jack. Especially since Victoire knew, for a fact, that Quidditch—and all Quidditch related things—bored Whit to tears.

"Well, Eatins," Dominique said, pointing to a dark skinned boy with a bright smile who was busy putting on a bit of a show for his other teammates at the moment, "he's a third-year and he's the new Chaser. He's pretty fast." She moved her finger and pointed at a pretty, willowy sort of girl with dark hair. "Then Kenley Mortimer is the new Keeper."

"I never took Kenley to be much of a Quidditch player," Victoire said, glancing down at the fifth-year girl who'd always seemed more interested in watching cute Quidditch players rather than actually playing with them.

"She's quick," Dominique said lazily, "but Jack wants me to help her get her accuracy down. Hey, do you know who told me he's after my position?"

"Who?"

"James Potter." Dominique laughed. "Told me just yesterday he wants to be a Seeker. I told him he's going to have to wait until his forth year, after I've graduated, but he said he wasn't worried and that he'd see how things turned out next year. He says that the worst case scenario, if he can't make Seeker next year, he might try out for the vacant Chaser position and then switch. "

Victoire smiled. "You might want to be worried. I've seen him on a broom. He's really good. After all, look at his mum. And from what I hear, his dad was a pretty good Seeker back in his day."

"Yes, but his mum was a professional _Chaser_, so I just need to keep reinforcing to him how much he wants to be a Chaser," Dominique said obviously. "It's just a matter of trying to manipulate him into believing what I say he should."

Victoire flipped her letter over in her hands and laughed a little. "Good luck with that."

"What's that?" Dominique asked, pointing to the letter.

"It's from your parents," Whit said.

Dominique gave Victoire a tentative look that quickly gave way to a smile. "What did they say?"

"I haven't read it yet."

"What are you waiting for—?" she began to ask, but at that moment, someone called up to her from the rows below. It seemed the Ravenclaw team was packing up their things.

Dominique instantly turned to make her way back to rejoin her team. Victoire watched as the Gryffindor team suited up for practice while the Ravenclaw team stalked off the field and began dropping their things on the bleachers that the Gryffindor team was now evacuating. Even from where she was sitting, she could see Dominique now smiling smugly at all of the Ravenclaws, as if she'd personally won some sort of battle. That look meant nothing good.

"Here we go," Victoire mumbled the longer she watched.

"What?" Whit asked.

"Just watch."

"Watch what—?"

"I told you it was our time to practice," Dominique's voice carried from below, "but of course, as usual, you're too thick to listen."

It hadn't looked as though she'd been addressing anyone specific on the Ravenclaw team, but Victoire knew better. It seemed Henry Davies knew better as well.

"Do you hear something?" Davies asked one of his teammates. "Like a really annoying screeching sound?"

Several of his teammates laughed; Dominique laughed too, though her laugh didn't sound nearly as amused. Hers was smug and satisfied.

"Enjoy last place," she said to them all, throwing them a quick wave before walking over to pick up her broom. "We'll have to send you a postcard from way up in first."

"Hey, Weasley," said Davies, his tone cool. "Why is it again that you didn't make Captain, but Ians did?"

"Oh, boy…" Victoire said as she shook her head. It seemed that Henry Davies apparently had a death wish.

Dominique hadn't answered him. She had just picked up her broom and begun walking away.

"Is it because you're completely mental or because he's that much better than you?" Davies continued while several of the Ravenclaw team members snickered. "Or do you think they figured you just can't handle it, what with you going and getting suspended for matches and selling out your team when they needed you? Didn't your lot lose the House Cup because of that?"

"Piss off, Davies," she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the center of the pitch to join the rest of her team

"You didn't answer my question!" he called back, laughing with his team in the process.

"He's an arse," Whit said.

"Nicki's not exactly an innocent victim," Victoire countered. "She brought that little display upon herself. Though, I am surprised she didn't come back over and kick him in the balls. She did that a few years back after that match where he blatantly fouled her." She made a kicking gesture with her foot. "She almost got really hurt because of it, so afterward, she approached him and kicked him square in the crotch. She was lucky not to be thrown off the team."

Whit made a quick face, but was already scanning the sky and watching the Gryffindors flying high above. "Are you ever going to read that letter?"

Victoire glanced back down at the letter she'd been holding. With no other distractions to deter her, she really had no other choice. With a heavy sigh, she slowly began to unfold it. It was her mother's handwriting that she recognized first—the flowy, perfectly scripted handwriting that Victoire herself had spent years attempting to emulate. She took another deep breath before she began to read:

_Dear Victoire, _

_How are you, my love? I do hope you are well and that school is finding itself not too stressful for you. I know how important this year is to you and to your future, so I hope you are remaining focused and relaxed._

She stared at the opening lines. _Obligatory polite greeting_, she thought. That was a good sign…or, it was a way of luring her into a false sense of calm before she was hit with the harsh stuff.

_Your father and I recently received your letter, which, I must say, was nice to finally see. It was nice to hear your side of the events we've been hearing about, as opposed to what everyone else has been telling us. We had heard so many variations—from your aunt, from your grandmother, from Teddy, himself—but we couldn't understand why we hadn't heard from you. _

Victoire stared at the part that claimed they'd heard from Ted, blinking a few times as she read it. They'd talked to Ted? Actually talked to Ted? What…? How had he failed to mention that?

She glanced down at his letter sitting beside her on the bleacher. Then again, maybe he had. Why hadn't she read his letter first?

_I will not lie and claim we weren't surprised at this turn of events. You and Teddy have been friends for so long that, while it should seem strange, it almost makes perfect sense. Why wouldn't he come to his senses and fall for a girl as beautiful and perfect as you?_

Victoire laughed a little.

_It should have been something I suspected all along, but I can say I have not. I had assumed that the two of you had fallen into a comfortable friendship that was past the point of being anything more, but as you can see, I was wrong. _

_Your father and I were not quite sure how to react to this news upon hearing it. A part of me was delighted, and another part was hesitant. I feared how serious your intentions were and, with Teddy being such a big part of your life, I feared for how things could be if the two of you did not work out. Perhaps you do not remember, but when you and he stopped speaking to each other two years ago, you were devastated. Losing Teddy took such a toll on you the first time that I cannot help but worry about the 'what ifs' this time. Victoire, I hope you do not feel as though I'm trying to put a sour spin on things, but as a mother, I must think like in an effort to protect you. It would be irresponsible for me not to make you aware of these things._

_I hope that you understand what you are getting yourself into. Your father and I have faith in you to make correct decisions, and if you feel as though this is what is right for you, we will support it. Love is a powerful emotion that comes on strong, but takes work to sustain. It's not always easy, but I know that if you want to make something work, you will. That's part of your nature. _

_Your father actually spoke to Teddy just the other day. He ran into him in Diagon Alley and they spoke. I think your father was trying to scare him a bit, but he claimed that he was the one who ended up a little scared once all was said and done. Apparently, the look Teddy gets when he talks about you is enough to convince your father that he is love, though he doesn't seem as eager to accept that as I may be. I cannot blame him exactly. You're his little girl, and he's not willing to let you go without putting up a fight, especially since this one seems quite serious._

_After reading your letter, I am happy that you are happy. I still wonder why it took you so long to write to us, but I can only assume you were afraid that we would be mad. Victoire, we only ask that you are honest with us. We care about you and want to see you get everything you require in life. We are on your side. I hope you know that. _

_Send Dominique and Louis our love and keep us updated on how school is going. We miss you very much and are counting the days until we see you again._

_Je t'embrasse_

Her mother had finished by drawing a small flower, which she always did when signing her letters. Victoire traced over it with her finger before smiling down at the letter. They weren't mad. Her mum actually seemed genuinely happy.

As she reread the letter over again, she began to suspect that her parents knew that she wasn't telling them everything, but in her mother's own way, it seemed as though she was trying to strike a deal with her—be honest with us from now on and we won't argue about what you're not telling us about the past month. That seemed like a fair deal. That seemed like a more than fair deal.

"And?" Whit asked.

Victoire finally looked up at her. "They don't seem mad. My mum actually seems happy for me."

"That's fantastic!" Whit said, reaching over to get her a quick squeeze. "See, all that worrying for nothing."

Victoire smiled a little as she looked back down at the letter and reread what she considered her favorite part. Ted had managed to convince her dad he was in love with her just in the way he talked about her. Something inside lit up as she thought about that. Now, she couldn't stop smiling.

She reached forward and grabbed her letter from Ted. She didn't need the cheering up after all, but she figured her mood could only get better if she read it. She didn't know how, considering that she was in a pretty amazing mood, but it somehow would.

_Vic,_

_Hey, so guess what? I ran into your dad the other day out of nowhere. He took me completely off guard while I was out on a date…with Lily. Had you there for a second though, huh? Probably not. Anyway, he and your Uncle George all but snuck up behind me and did a very intimidating, "have a seat" sort of gesture before they started asking all sorts of questions. Which, by the way, I'm convinced your dad knows we're lying about us only having been together since King's Cross. I just got this feeling while talking to him, but he really didn't say much about it either way. But I can just tell he knows._

_Anyway, I'm still alive to write this letter to you, so things obviously went well enough. I don't think you should have to worry about your parents going mental on you. We may very well be out of the woods here as far as all of this secret keeping is concerned. I think everyone we were worried about has found out and the world has yet to end. That's all we could have asked for. _

_In other, much less eventful news, the other night I was lying in bed thinking about you (that happens often as you might have guessed). I flipped over onto my pillow and noticed that it didn't smell like you anymore, which actually made me kind of sad. How pathetic is that? If you ever question about how much I miss you, I want you to cite this letter and picture me getting annoyed with a pillow because that's what happened. Of course, now I have no excuse not to laundry. _

_You'll also be happy to know that while bored the other day, I figured out the actual amount of days until we get to see each other again, and it really didn't seem like that many. I left the number scribbled down on my desk though, so I don't remember it off the top of my head—_

"Ninety-one," Victoire said out loud.

"Ninety-one what?" asked Whit, her hand shielding her eyes as she scanned the sky.

Victoire shook her head and waved her off as if it didn't matter.

_—but I'll commit it to memory when I get home. I was also thinking about all the things I would like us to do when you go back. I'd like to give cooking another try, given that my oven seems to have survived. I've actually got a lot of things I'd like us to do, but then I remember that you'll only be home for a short time, and it's the holidays, which means we probably won't get to it all. Though, I'll have you know that I have every intention of making my pillow smell like you again. We need to get to work on that straight away. _

_I miss you. _

_I love you._

_Ted_

"Well, that's the goofiest smile I've ever seen you make," Whit said.

Victoire snapped her attention back to Whit, who was grinning at her. "That's Ted's letter, I take it?"

She nodded.

Whit laughed a little and looked up to the sky. "I don't know how you managed to keep things a secret for a month when you smile like an idiot every time his name is so much mentioned."

Victoire shrugged, still smiling.

"And I predicted it all," Whit said with a faux gloat. "I knew you were in love with him before you knew you were in love with him."

"You _thought _you knew."

"Who was the one who suggested it first? Or have you forgotten?" She made her voice high, as if purposely doing a bad job of impersonating Victoire. "'Oh, he's just my friend. We would never work. That would be ridiculous.'"

"Okay, I was clearly wrong about that," Victoire said obviously, "but I wasn't in love with him then. I wasn't in love with him until—"

"Four days later?"

Victoire thought about that. It had only been a few days in between Whit claiming she and Ted should get together and her realizing they should get together. Still, she didn't know she was in love with him until much later on. That was a fact.

"I wasn't in love with him then," Victoire repeated.

"That you know of," Whit muttered. "I have a theory you've been in love with him for years and you just didn't know it."

"Well, you'd be wrong," she said with a smile.

"That's fine," Whit said, matching her smile. "As time has shown, you claiming I'm wrong generally means I'm right."


	13. Zooming Brooms

On cool autumn evening in early October, Ted kicked his feet up onto the seat directly in front of him and scanned the sky above. Around him, professional Quidditch players flew over his head at lightning fast speeds, and the voice of a boisterous play-by-play announcer called their every move as it happened. There was a chill in the air this evening; not to mention an excitement in his surroundings that sent a charge of energy through the crowds of spectators around him. It was a perfect night for Quidditch.

Ever since Ted was a child, the sound of brooms zooming overhead had always given him a sort of thrill whenever they happened to get particularly close. There was very little that topped the feeling he received from attending a professional Quidditch match, though one of the few feelings that did was currently sitting in a castle in Scotland right now; not to be seen for another two and half months. He was settling for the second best thing.

As a time out was called to tend to a player who had fallen off his broom, Ted tore his gaze away from the sky to look over his shoulder and scan the masses of people behind him. Where on earth was Simon? He was supposed to have been here a half an hour ago, but he'd yet to turn up. Sure, Ted had grown accustomed to Simon being late to-- well, everything, but he was rarely ever _this _late. He was almost pushing an hour.

With a heavy sigh, Ted turned back around in his chair to continue watching the match. He and Simon were supposed to be hanging out for the first time since the night Simon had stopped by to announce Susan's pregnancy, but at this rate, Ted almost felt as though he'd be spending his night solo. Not that he minded much since he rather enjoyed watching Quidditch alone. He couldn't play the sport worth a damn, but he enjoyed watching it tremendously. He studied stats and watched the paper for any new or interesting developments. He obsessively scoured any news source he could on new player signings—particularly if they concerned his favorite team, the Wimborne Wasps—and he'd probably been to more Quidditch matches in his life than half of the people sitting in this stadium combined thanks to Ginny Potter. He could think of a lot worse things than having to sit through a match alone.

"Hey," said a sudden out-of-breath voice, right as the seat next to Ted was filled. It was Simon, who looked red in face and sweaty, as though he'd just been sprinting from somewhere. Then again, he probably had been sprinting from somewhere given his tardiness

"Where have you been?" Ted asked, glancing only briefly at him before looking back up to the sky again to catch the Wasps run defense on the always terrible, always painful to watch, Chudley Cannons. "They released the Quaffle a half an hour ago."

"I know. I got stuck at work."

"I thought you were going to leave early?"

"I tried, but Portkeys have been a nightmare lately." He searched the sky overhead. "I told you how people are already booking for Christmas time. It's ridiculous how busy it is."

Ted nodded, but didn't look at him. The Wasps's Keeper had deflected the Quaffle away from the rings directly behind him, which had made Ted and the home crowd roar happily. All he could hope for was a nice, long match.

"Anyway, sorry it's took me so long to finally get out," Simon continued, looking up at the sky in an attempt to play catch-up on what was going on. "You of all people know how it is, though."

"We all get busy," Ted said, staring from one Chaser to the next as they passed the Quaffle between them.

"Work's a royal pain," Simon muttered.

Ted cast him a sideways glance. Lately, it had become all too common for Simon to claim that it was solely work that was keeping him "so busy" the last couple weeks. However, Ted had to wonder if there was more to it. Simon looked older somehow these day, and he definitely seemed frazzled sitting beside him. He had made a flippant comment days before about how, with a kid on the way, he needed to make sure he started saving money; now, it seemed he was running himself ragged to do just that. With a new baby coming, it was fairly clear that Simon's free time was mostly going to deplete to none. Soon enough, catching a Quidditch game together on a weekday afternoon was probably going to become as rare as the Chudley Cannons actually winning something.

"Jobivich better watch out," Ted mumbled, pointing up to the Wasps's Chaser. "The Cannon's Beater is on to him."

"Yeah, I'm trying to figure out what's going on. Did I miss anything?"

"Just the Cannons getting their arses handed to them."

Simon rolled his eyes. "What else is new? We couldn't have picked a shittier match to come to."

"It was only night I had off this week," Ted said, shrugging. Truth be told, the Wasps could be playing a team of blind monkeys on faulty brooms and he would still turn up to see them if he could.

"Looks like I'm not the only one working more these days," Simon said. "For awhile there, it sounded like you slowed down, but now you're right back at it."

Ted shrugged, his eyes still glued to the Cannon's Beater. "I might as well." He glanced back at Simon and got a good look at just how exhausted he seemed. He was unshaven with heavy bags under his eyes and looked as if he could use a good week's sleep. It was rare to see him this disheveled. It was almost concerning. "So, how have thing been lately?"

Simon yawned, but didn't say anything.

"No offense," Ted said, turning back to the sky, "but you look like shit."

"What do you expect. I've been working like mad." He paused for a long moment. "And how exactly is someone not supposed to take offense to that?"

"Sorry?"

"When you say 'no offense,' but then you tell them something derogatory. How am I not supposed to take offense to that? What's the point in saying it?"

Ted stared at him. Was he being serious? Simon's tried and true brand of humor was the "no offense, but…" brand of commenting. All of last year, when Ted's job had kept him from barely finding time to sleep or shower, Simon had religiously resorted to making comments and jokes just like that. It was a staple of who he was: blunt and to the point, but always trying to get a laugh.

"That was a stupid question," Simon added suddenly, looking as if he wondered why he'd even spoken. "Sorry, I don't know why I even said that."

"Are you okay?" Ted asked before the sound of brooms zooming closely overhead distracted him. They'd gotten so close this time that the breeze from their momentum had ruffled both Ted and Simon's hair.

"I'm just tired," Simon said heavily. "It's been a rough couple of weeks. At work, at home…" He trailed off.

"What's going on?"

"Well, work is work, you know? Things have been busy, which is really just bad timing considering everything going on in my personal life. Thing at home are," he considered this, "they're fine, actually, but I'm stressing out over the future."

Ted nodded. "That's not surprising."

"Susan is too."

"How's she doing?"

"Not too bad," said Simon. "Now that the baby has sort of registered with her, she seems really happy." He smiled a little. "She excited and nervous, all of those normal emotions that you'd expect. It's cute, really." He sighed. "She told her parents."

"How'd that go?"

"They seemed shocked, but they're being supportive." He looked at Ted. "I told my mum about a week ago. Guess what she did?"

"What?"

"Smacked me upside the head, told me I'm an idiot, and then started crying because she was going to be a grandmother. My sisters, too. They all beat on me in some way and then got really excited and emotional."

Ted laughed loudly as the crowd roared once again as the Wasps scored, making their lead two hundred and seventy points higher over Cannons in just the first half an hour of the match. At this rate, he sure wasn't going to get that long match he had hoped for.

"Yeah, they all seem excited," Simon added.

"And how are you holding up?" Ted asked.

He shrugged. "I'm adapting. I mean, one minute I'm excited and the next I'm wondering what the fuck I'm doing having a kid, but I suppose that's to be expected, right?"

"I'd guess so."

Simon leaned back in his chair and began scanning the sky. "How's Victoire?"

"Away at school."

"Hey, I never apologized for that night I just turned up, but I'm really sorry about that. I know you two were having your night together, but I just wanted to talk to somebody. I didn't even realize until I got there what I was interrupting."

"It wasn't a big deal," Ted said, waving of his hand dismissively before he sat forward in his chair to search up and down the aisle. Where was the bloke selling snacks?

"Yeah, right," Simon laughed. "You answer the door half dressed and ready to hex me. You were clearly in the middle of something that you'd rather not have interrupted."

"We were, but…" he sighed heavily, "it's not like I can't wait four months for the opportunity to come around again."

Simon made no point in hiding his laughter. "I'm sorry. I'm a prat. But hey, you've always got your hand."

"I do have that," he joked, still searching the aisles for where the snack bloke might be.

"Hey," Simon began, "did you and she ever…? Before she left?"

Ted shook his head, assuming he was taking about sex. "How could we when some stupid tosser comes around pounding on my door whenever I get the opportunity?" He threw Simon a pointed look.

"Look at it this way," Simon said. "I could have saved you from miscasting your spell and having an accident. I hear that's going around lately." He smirked. "It's an epidemic, really."

"Yeah, I'm not stupid enough to do that," Ted countered, now smiling himself. "Seriously, who screws up a two word spell?"

"True. Who is _that s_tupid?" Simon said. "Honestly,_ that _guy would be a prize fucking idiot. I hope I never meet_ that _guy."

Ted snorted a laugh. "At least you can joke about it. I mean, I know it's really not a joke at all, but…" He shrugged. "You're taking it well, is all."

"What else can I do?" said Simon slowly as he began watching the sky again. "You know me. The more scared I am, the funnier something becomes…"

Ted nodded, but reached out to give him a quick squeeze of the shoulder.

"You want to know the funniest part?" Simon asked.

"What's that?"

"In school, Charms was my best subject by far. Did I not go around telling people how stupid they were for not being able to figure out a proper protection spell? Remember, when you were trying to figure it out before you and Celia did it, and we couldn't find one person to give us a straight answer? I thought you had to be a brain dead idiot to screw something that easy up."  
Ted laughed again, remembering that entire incident all too well. The two of them in the library scouring books, Simon making a point of knowing exactly how to perform the spell once the two of them had figured it out, and then calling everyone who told him the wrong thing how dumb they were. It was all very ironic.

"So, you've got four months until you see Vicki again, huh? That's shit."

"It's only three now."

"Still…"

"Yeah, I know," Ted muttered. "Hey, did I ever tell you that I randomly ran into Bill Weasley with no warning after he'd found out about everything? Just stumbled upon him in Diagon Alley."

Simon's eyes went a little wide. "I'll bet that was fun."

"Oh, absolutely," Ted said sarcastically before he proceeded to tell Simon about everything that had happened since the day Victoire left—from James spotting him and Victoire kissing, to the fake story he'd concocted to tell everyone, to Harry finding out the truth, to Bill confronting him in Diagon Alley. When it was all said and done, Simon's mouth was partially agape.

"And what'd your Grams say?" Simon asked.

Ted made a funny face, but let a small laugh escape him. "Her reaction was actually pretty funny. I stopped by her house the other day, and I'm not even there ten seconds before she tells me that she has always wondered when something like this would happen between Vic and me. Her exact words were, 'She's too pretty and sensible for me to think you wouldn't have some sort of feelings for her...unless you're completely daft because I know you're not blind. I've seen your eye exams.'" He looked back at Simon. "Apparently, she's a bloody Seer now because she 'knew it would happen someday.'" He glanced back up at the sky. "Half the people who've found out claim it was only a matter of time, the other half are surprised. The reactions have been very split down the middle."

"You've got to expect that given how long you and Victoire go back," Simon said.

"Yeah, well, at least it's out," Ted mumbled, returning to his search for the someone selling snacks. "It's out and over with. It's mostly blown over, though I'm sure it'll kick back up when she's home for Christmas."

"Which I'm sure you're looking forward to."

Ted smirked. "You have no idea."

"Well," Simon said, kicking his feet up on the chair in front of him, "at least you made it out alive."

"Yeah," Ted said with a quick nod. "Which is surprising since I'm convinced her dad suspected something more than what we were telling him, but he was surprisingly cool about things. He could have easily cursed me, but he just seemed weirdly calm."

"Dads are hard to read sometimes," Simon said. "After Susan told hers about being pregnant, I could see him giving me this mad look through the fireplace. A look like, '_I will kill you if you fuck up._' Susan said I was imagining it, but I think she was just happy he wasn't giving _her_ that look."

"I can picture Bill Weasley giving that look," Ted said. "I never could before a few weeks ago, but now I sure can."

"I'll tell you this now," Simon said with a point of his finger. "If I end up having a girl, I can promise you I'll be like that. I'd probably have fun scaring the piss out of little punks who came around trying to get into my daughter's knickers." He paused for a long moment. "That is why I need to have a boy..."

Ted smiled a little at hearing that. Simon sitting here, talking about having either a boy or a girl was almost strangely reassuring. It was as if he really would make it through this entire ordeal in one piece. Ted knew after having known Simon as well as he had for the last eight years that it would take quite a bit to actually get Simon to crack, but this was the first time that Ted could safely say he'd seen him tested. Usually, he just joked his way out of t, but you couldn't do that with a kid. No matter how much Simon pretended he could.

"So, anyway," Simon said, his tone suddenly vague. "I've got something else to tell you. I probably should have just come out and said it, but…" He clicked his tongue.

"Oh, yeah?" Ted asked as he finally spotted a bloke carrying snacks in his direction. He immediately reached into his pocket to retrieve some money, but instead pulled out a broken quill tip and a small, brass key. "Bigger than 'I'm having a baby?'"

"About the same."

"About the same?" he asked before he tried his right pocket, where he found the handful of Sickles that he'd been looking for. "What the hell else is on the same level as having a kid?"

Simon took a deep breath. "I'll just come out with it. Now, you're the first person I'm telling, which by the way clearly makes me an infinitely better friend than you are, since I actually tell you things—"

Ted had been counting out his Sickles, but stopped to glare at him. "Are you _still_ dragging that up?"

"I'm just pointing out how I obviously trust you more than you trust me," Simon joked.

"You were the first person I told after it happened."

"Excuses…"

Ted rolled his eyes, just as the crowd inhaled sharply after one of the players from the Cannons slammed hard into the ground after a botched Wronski Feint. Ted could hear the thump from where he was sitting, and, involuntarily, both he and Simon found sympathy groans escaping them.

"Oh, that had to hurt," Simon muttered, cringing as the man's legs went sprawled into directions they shouldn't be bending in. "I think he's unconscious."

"He's lucky he's alive after hitting the ground at that speed," Ted mumbled, watching as the medi-wizards rushed the pitch to the injured player. Everyone around the stadium had grown deathly silent while they waited on news on whether or not the injured player was just hurt or _terribly _hurt.

"What's your news?" Ted asked in a low whisper, watching as the medi-wizards went to work assisting the player onto a stretcher.

"I'm going to propose to Susan."

Ted's head snapped towards him. "Seriously?!"

As he said it, several people sitting around them turned to stare. Given the silence surrounding them and the tension in air due to the injury, some looked annoyed at his outburst; others just rolled their eyes and looked away.

Simon tried to hide his laughter. "Yeah."

Ted stared at him blankly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Simon had already held up his hand to silence him.

"Yes, it's because of the baby, but it's also not. I've been thinking about this for months now. It was something I was already considering, but the baby just makes me want to do it sooner."

Ted looked away from him and back onto the pitch. They were lifting the injured player off the field now, which made everyone around him start to applaud. He usually would have done the same, but his mind was still too focused on what Simon had said. "You're serious?"

"I've given this a lot of thought," Simon said. "Obsessive thought, actually. I know it's what I want to do."

"Simon…" Ted said, ignoring the man with the snacks as he walked right past him. "I— you're sure? You're not just doing this because of—"

He nodded. "I even made a list of pros and cons. When I finished, the pros were much longer than the cons and that was before I even added anything having to do with the baby onto it."

Ted blinked. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't shocked by this news; even a little more so than hearing that Simon was having a baby. He wasn't sure why, but maybe it was because the baby hadn't been planned. The baby was something that was forcing Simon to grow up; something he hadn't actively made the effort in pursuing. Marriage was him consciously making a choice. He was making a very adult choice on his own…because he wanted to.

"I knew early on that she was the one," Simon added once the match got underway again. "This is just me making things happen a little faster than I'd intended to."

"Wow," said Ted. "Well, then…" He grinned a little. "I can't believe you're going to get married."

"If she says yes," Simon said. "I think she will, though. We've talked about it even before she was pregnant. We were talking about it the other day."

"Shit." Ted shook his head. "Everything suddenly seems to be happening so fast."

Simon looked at him funnily, as if he was the one who should be uttering such a phrase—not Ted.

"Sorry," Ted added. "Obviously you're probably feeling that more than anyone."

"Well, if she does say yes, I want you to be my best man," Simon said. "That's about all the planning I've done, but I just thought you should know. I know you hate weddings, but…"

Ted cracked a small smile. Simon was right. He hated the whole concept of weddings. Not marriage, but actual weddings…the pomp and circumstance; the rules and the etiquette; the putting on a show for people, most of which probably didn't care; none of that interested him. If he had his way, he would simply go down to the Ministry and be in an out in a half an hour's time. He'd be married before lunch if he could work it out. Still, the idea of Simon appointing him to such an important position was a strangely humbling feeling. He could suck up his disinterest for weddings for Simon, and that wasn't something he would say about too many people.

"So, you'll think about doing it?" Simon asked. "I know you think these things are a complete waste of time, but I know Susan wants one and—"

"Forget about that," Ted said, shaking his head. "Absolutely I'll do it"

Simon grinned and let his gaze fall back to the sky. "I appreciate it. You're the only person I'd want to ask, so at least you made that easy on me." He looked back at him. "But hey, all I'm asking is that you help keep me on track. Just be there for me through this whole thing—from the actual ceremony, to the stag party, to all of that crap in between. If I get off track, I need you to be there smacking me upside the head and straightening me out."

"I've never needed the title of best man to do that."

"True," he said, still grinning. "Still, I really do appreciate it."

Ted smiled at him, though quickly looked away. "This moment is becoming entirely too sappy for Quidditch."

"Yeah, all right, I'm done," Simon said, laughing before he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "You know though. It's sort of funny how life turns out. Do remember where we were a year ago?"

"Today?" Ted asked.

"No. Just in general. You were still with Celia—"

"Not for much longer," Ted said as he realized that in a week's time, on what would soon be Simon's twentieth birthday, it would have been exactly a year since he and she had split up. It seemed like so much longer when he thought about it, but that was probably due to the year he'd had since. He really had come quite far.

"Yeah, but you get the point."

Ted nodded. "She and I were still together, I hated my job, I had no clue what I was doing with my life…"

"And I didn't have a care in the damn world," Simon said distantly, the sounds of brooms zooming continuing overhead. "Not one. Now look at us. I'm probably getting married and I'm definitely having a kid. You're off and with the one person that no one, not even you, would have pegged you to be with a year ago."

Ted shook his head in disbelief. "Weird how much has changed in a year."

"And to think," Simon said, just as the crowd roared raucously after the Wasps scored once again, "we've still got the rest of our lives ahead of us."


	14. Trick or Treat

"Simon's getting married?" Dominique asked, her tone surprised as she lounged lazily across from Victoire in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room. "Seriously married? Like, walking down the aisle, bonded for life, eating hot hors d'oeuvres while you watch your relatives dance terribly, married?"

"That's what Ted says," said Victoire as she reread the last part of the letter he had sent her that morning. "He proposed to Susan and she said yes. They're getting married some time before the baby's due."

"Are they getting married because he knocked her up?"

Victoire rolled her eyes.

"It's a valid question."

Victoire pulled Ted's letter up in front of her face and scanned it again. "Ted says Simon has other reasons. He seems to think Simon was going to do it anyway."

"Because of the baby?"

"I don't know," Victoire said obviously. "You'd have to ask Simon that."

"Because it's not as if you have to get married just because someone is pregnant," Dominique added. "Babies don't automatically equal love. They just mean sex."

"Yes, Nicki, I get that," murmured Victoire. "But maybe this is something he wanted to do anyway? Maybe they both wanted to get married, but the baby is just making them decide to do it sooner?"

"Or maybe he's just doing what's expected of him," Dominique countered. "You know, doing what's—" she made air quote with her fingers, "_right._"

"Why does it always have to be something like that with you?" Victoire asked. "Why can't it be romantic and sweet? Why does it have to always be something dramatic?"

"Life is dramatic."

Victoire arched her eyebrow. "Because you would know? You've lived _such_ a hard life."

"I don't have to live one to know it exists," she said, standing abruptly from her chair. Without another word, she turned and walked straight towards the girls' dormitory. Their conversation was apparently over.

Victoire sighed and looked back down at Ted's letter, reading it once again. It was a cloudy Halloween afternoon at the end of October, and she had found herself sitting in the common room amidst a random sampling of pumpkins that someone had placed in various spots. No one was really sure who or why someone did it, but every Halloween for the last three years, someone had gone about the Gryffindor common room leaving mysterious pumpkins on various tables, chairs, and shelves. These days they were all but ignored, but it served as a helpful reminder of the day. If anything, it helped Victoire to remember not to eat too much at lunch given that the evening's feast was just hours away.

She looked back up and glanced around the room in a bored stupor. With her schedule what it was, her Thursday afternoons usually found her with lots of empty free time. Almost everyone she knew—with the exception of her sister—was still off in class until the end of the afternoon. She and Dominique typically kept each other company when they weren't napping or studying, but like most instances where the two found themselves spending excessive amounts of time together, they generally found themselves butting heads over something.

However, when her sister wasn't around, Victoire rather enjoyed the calm, quiet of these afternoons. They generally gave her ample time to think or catch up on the schoolwork she had to finish; whether she actually did any of her work was another question entirely. She did manage a lot of napping and daydreaming, which often turned into recurring bouts of fantasizing about Ted. Those thoughts alone, while amazing at the start, always led to exact same feelings of frustration once she was reminded that December still seemed eons away.

It had been two months since she'd last seen him, though he'd written her nine times thus far—a new record. Most of the letters were the same sort of friendly hellos and I-miss-yous, but things were getting a bit more interesting thanks to her decision to spice things up in her last letter; something that had been brought on purely because she had been feeling bored and playful. She immediately smiled as she thought of the last one she'd written him. She had wanted to get a reaction out of him, so she had written a very detailed letter about one of the more interesting daydreams she had about the two of them recently. It was the sort of letter that had her blushing after she'd read it back to herself; the kind that she hoped no one else other than him would see.

She almost hadn't sent it, figuring it was a little unusual for her to be sending sexy letters off in the post. She had actually stood in the owlery for fifteen minutes contemplating whether or not she should do it. In the end, she had decided against it at the last moment, though when she went to retrieve the letter back from her owl, Henley, a group of Slytherin girls had walked in and startled her into spooking him away. Henley had flown away after that; thus making the decision for her.

That had been two days ago, and in the day that had passed, she'd found herself strangely nervous upon awaiting Ted's response. She wasn't even sure why, but when she received his letter that morning, she slowly found herself smiling at his reaction of:

_Your last letter…Wow, Vic. Can I just say that I really shouldn't have read that before work? I burned my hand when I stopped paying attention to what I'd been pouring because I was too busy remembering some of the finer points of what you'd written. Also, just so you know, I think we need to try that. All of that. Multiple times. You really need to come home already..._

Picturing Ted's face, while he read her letter—and him burning his hand thinking about her letter—had given her endless amounts of amusement in the dull moments of the day...which there were a lot of. She knew she should have been happy to have everything as quiet as it was lately; especially compared to noise that surrounded her last year, but there was no denying that the quiet was usually accompanied by the boring—lots of homework, lots of class work, lots of long hours of the same old, same old. She really wasn't quite sure which was worse—the boring or the drama.

At the same moment Victoire rested on that thought, Dominique reappeared from the dormitory with her Quidditch bag slung over her shoulder. She placed it down in a chair next to Victoire and proceeded to fiddle with her shoelaces.

"Do you have practice?" Victoire asked.

She shook her head. "Jack decided against it for some reason. I just figured I'd go get some air and work on my flying technique."

"It looks like rain," Victoire said, nodding towards the storm clouds outside of the window.

Dominique shrugged as if she didn't care. She picked up her bag and turned towards the portrait hole.

Victoire watched her go, but quickly turned away to shake her head. Leave it to Nicki to want to play in the rain, she thought, stretching out in her chair as she began to contemplate what kind of letter she could write to Ted this time. If he'd gotten a kick out of the last one, she had to be able to do better than that this go around. She laughed to herself the more she thought about being sandwiched between a soft surface and Ted at this very moment. There were so many possibilities that could come out of being in that position; each sounding as inviting as the last.

Unfortunately, just as she'd closed her eyes to properly set herself up to enjoy her daydream, her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of people now pouring back into the common room after their afternoon lessons. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost track of time. Everyone's day was over now.

She sat up and immediately scanned the crowd for Whit, but she was nowhere to be found. Jack was there, animatedly talking with Kenley Mortimer and Martha Ayers—two of the three girls on the Quidditch team—but Whit wasn't with him. She watched as more and more people piled in, but even once the majority of the room had filled, there was still no sign of Whit.

Victoire sighed and looked back towards the window. She couldn't see much from where she was sitting on this side of the room, but a flock of birds was flying in a V shape off in the distance. They stood out against a sky of dark grays and coal colors, looking as if they were heading south for the winter.

The longer she stared, the more she realized that this was an ugly, ugly Halloween. How very appropriate.

"Hey, Vicki," said a voice she recognized, which snapped her back to her surroundings. When she turned, she saw Jack staring back at her.

"Hi, Jack."

"You haven't seen Jane around, have you?"

She shook her head and absently scanned the room once more for Whit. "I thought you'd know where she was."

He shrugged. "I haven't seen her all afternoon." He made a hesitant face. "I told her we'd hang out this afternoon, but some of the team thinks we should try to get a bit of a practice in."

"What is with all of you wanting to fly around when the sky looks like that?" She pointed towards the window.

"It's just a little rain," he said. "These are the best sorts of conditions to practice in."

"You're the Quidditch nut," she said, sounding bored. "Nicki said she was going down to the pitch to fly around, so you'll probably find her down there."

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll run into her," he said, sounding preoccupied. "But, will you do me a favor and tell Jane that's where I went?"

"Sure thing," she said with a quick nod.

He smiled as if he appreciated that before turning to walk back across the room to where Kenley and Martha seemed to be waiting for his response. Victoire could actually pinpoint the moment they must have heard it because they both quickly beamed and immediately darted in the direction of the dorms.

"I'm telling you, Jack," Kenley all but yelled across the room as she strolled by Victoire. "This is a good thing. It's the perfect time to practice."

Victoire watched Kenley pass before she begrudgingly stood up from her chair. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but it was still a few hours until the feast tonight and she probably had something more productive she could be doing other than daydreaming…as boring as that sounded.

With a lame sigh and a reluctant drag in her step, she made her way up the stairs to her dormitory to see if, perhaps, there was something up there she could be doing. She narrowly avoid Kenley and Martha on the stairs as they talked whispers and practically raced to get back to the common room with their Quidditch supplies, but upon reaching her room, she plopped down on her bed in a huff.

"There's got to be something to do," she mumbled out loud, though no one was there to hear it. "Something besides school work."

The sound of rain drops beating heavily against a nearby window made her briefly look up before she let her head fall lazily back onto her pillow. She closed her eyes and wondered who on earth would willingly want to run around and play Quidditch in this weather. You had to be at least a little mad to find that normal. Actually, not even a little. You had to be a lot mad to find that…

A door slamming made her eyes flutter open. She blinked a few times, feeling oddly groggy and startled. When she pulled herself up and looked to her left, Whit was entering and throwing some of her things down onto her own bed. The room was darker than it had been moments before, though Victoire wasn't entirely sure why.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Whit said quietly.

"I didn't know I'd fallen asleep," Victoire mumbled, rubbing her eyes as if to double check that they'd been closed. "What time is it?"

"A little before six."

"I was out for almost an hour," she said, surprised. "I hadn't meant to sleep."

"Well, are you awake now? Because I have something to tell you and you have to be awake for it."

Victoire squinted at her curiously.

Whit jumped onto her bed—the bed across from Victoire's—and plopped down with a dull thud. Taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself to make some huge declaration, she said, "Okay, so I stayed after in Defense Against the Dark Arts to help Professor Marks clean up after today's assignment. Well, once I had finished, I took the longer of the two short cuts to Gryffindor Tower back. You know the one that tends to be more deserted?"

Victoire nodded.

"I'm crossing across the seventh floor and I'm about to turn the first corner over by the portrait of Artemis the Arduous, right? Well, I hear voices— actually, more like laughter. At first I just think it's the ghosts, or maybe Peeves. Either way, I didn't think much of it. Still, for some weird reason, I decided to look before I turned." Her eyes went wide. "You'll never in a million years guess what I saw."

Victoire sat up straighter. "What?"

"Your brother, looking very involved while snogging—" She stopped for dramatic effect.

"Who!?"

"Sarah Kirke."

Victoire's jaw dropped. "No..."

"That's what I saw."

"But they're just friends."

"They're apparently _very_ friendly friends."

She stared at her. "Are you positive?"

Whit nodded eagerly. "I swear to you that I saw it. When I turned away, I even checked back just to make sure. I also even went and took the long way all the way back up here just so that I could tell you without them seeing me."

"I don't believe it…" Victoire said in a slightly awed tone, though as she spoke something suddenly dawned on her. "Wait. They have been hanging out a lot lately. Like, they've always been friendly, but that's because of Nicki, you know? If Nicki was around, they hung out. But lately, even I've noticed that he seems to be spending more and more time with her. I would have never thought it was because of…" She trailed off.

Whit shrugged. "They both seemed to be enjoying it from where I was standing."

"Oh, jeez," Victoire said with a quick laugh. "She's his sister's best friend. What is he thinking?"

"Not to mention Sarah really close with his ex."

Victoire nodded as that thought resonated with her. Sarah was very close with Louis's ex, Natalie. She had been one of the few people to stick by Natalie last year after a whole mess of trouble had been started when Colleen Lynch blackmailed her into breaking up with Louis. It was that little detail that had always made Victoire suspect that Natalie had never quite gotten over her brother. She could be wrong, of course, but it was just something she sensed. Not that it mattered because Louis appeared to have completely moved on from her given that the drama filled girls never tended to be the ones he found himself dealing with for very long. He couldn't be bothered.

"She and Natalie are friends," Victoire said slowly, shaking her head. "And I can definitely see both Natalie and Nicki taking issue with this."

"You think Nicki will?"

"Oh," Victoire said matter-of-factly, "of course she will. She'll be mad that Louis, who can all but get any girl he wants, is now going after her best friend."

"From what I saw, he wasn't going after anything," Whit said bluntly. "He already _had_."

"I didn't even think Sarah was his type," Victoire said once she thought about it more. "I mean, she's sweet and bubbly and has actual common sense. He's usually with—" she pulled a doubtful face, "girls that don't have any of those things."

"I don't know about that," said Whit. "Most of the girls I've seen him with have been sweet and bubbly." Her expression turned thoughtful. "Though, the common sense thing is debatable."

"Dominique's going to kiiiiiiiiiill him…" Victoire said in a sing-song tone. "I don't even want to be there when she finds out. What is he thinking? Does he even know what he's about to start?"

"Aren't you curious as to why they were snogging in a rarely used corridor instead of doing it out in the open?" Whit asked. "I think they're both well aware of what could happen if they're making it a point to hide."

"You think they're keeping it a secret on purpose?"

"That does seem to be the Weasley way."

Victoire laughed. "It is, isn't it?" She laughed again. "You know, after he found out about Ted and me, he kept asking how we managed to keep it a secret. He always seemed way too interested in that part, whereas everyone else was more interested in us actually being together."

"You think it's been going on that long?"

Victoire shrugged. "They were hanging out a lot over the summer. I'm almost starting to think that Sarah wasn't _accidentally _turning up early when she knew Nicki wouldn't be around."

"How sneaky," Whit said with a funny little smile. "You and your brother are more alike than you know."

"Seems that way," Victoire said, casting a furtive look towards the door. So Louis was keeping secrets, too. It looked like she wasn't the only Weasley kid with the capabilities to keep things from people, though, it seemed, Louis wasn't nearly as good at not getting caught as she was. She should probably have a little talk with him about that…

"That look is never good," Whit said slowly.

Victoire turned to see Whit studying her face, seemingly trying to figure out what she was thinking. "I'm just curious what exactly the story is."

"I can ask Jack what he knows," Whit offered. "I wanted to earlier, but I couldn't find him. I have no idea where he is."

"Oh!" Victoire said, suddenly remembering, "Quidditch practice. He wanted me to tell you that. He called a random, emergency Quidditch practice in the rain or something stupid like that."

Whit's face fell. "Again?"

"What's wrong with that?"

She shook her head as if to say nothing, but still looked annoyed by news. "It's just, that's all Jack does these days—school, practice Quidditch, and eat." She frowned. "Well, that is unless he skips meal time for more practice."

"Their first match isn't too far off," Victoire said. "I'm sure he's just worried about the team making a good show."

"Yeah, maybe," Whit said, not sounding at all like she believed that. "I don't know."

"Plus, you said this was a good thing, remember? With you being busy with N.E.W.T. stuff. At least he's keeping himself busy."

"He's keeping himself non-existent," Whit muttered before casting an anxious look down at the floor. "I hate Quidditch."

"Well, if you're looking for something to keep yourself busy in the mean time," she suddenly smiled, "I have an idea…"

Whit stared at her.

Victoire immediately hopped off the bed with an especially excited energy about her. "Let's go bother Louis!"

"Are you really going to say something to him?"

"_Of course_ I'm going to say something," she said obviously. "I'd be a bad sister if I didn't!"

"Don't say it was me who saw them, though," Whit added quickly. "Just say you heard it from someone else."

"Who?"

"Anyone. Just not me."

Victoire stared at her for a moment before waving her hand dismissively. "Fine. Whatever." She turned towards the door. "Let's go have some fun with this!"

Whit begrudged a small groan, but still stood up and followed as they both took to the stairs that led down to the common room. With a spring in her step, Victoire couldn't help but find that she was in a surprisingly giggly mood all of the sudden. Perhaps it was because she finally had something to do, or perhaps it was because she could go and make her brother cringe for a bit. She wasn't sure, but it was the cure for her boredom that she had been looking for.

"Now where is he?" Victoire said as they reached the bottom of the stairs and she scanned the room. All around them, most of Gryffindor's students were busy doing their homework or socializing with each other about the Halloween feast that evening.

"There," Whit said, pointing towards the window.

It only took Victoire a second to see where she was indicating. Louis was sitting at a table by the far right window with Flynn and Sarah. Had she not heard what she'd just heard from Whit, she would have never even suspected anything was different. Even now, the two were positioned catty-corner from each other at the table; not next to each other or across from each other; they were barely even paying attention to each other. Flynn was the one sitting there doing all the talking.

Then again, maybe that was the sign…

"Don't say it was me," Whit reminded her.

Victoire threw her a look that said, _"I know..."_ before she made a beeline towards their table. She immediately pulled out the empty chair that resided next to her brother and plopped down into it. She was going to have some fun with this.

"Hey, Lou."

"Hey," he said lazily and without looking up from what he was writing. He looked to be busy transferring notes from his book to piece of parchment.

She looked directly across the table at Sarah. She, too, was taking notes, her quill hastily scribbling over a piece of half filled parchment. "Hi, Sarah."

Sarah looked up and smiled at her. "Hi, Vicki."

She turned back to her brother, trying with difficulty to hide her smile. "Louis," she said, a definite playfulness in her tone, "trick or treat?"

He looked up at her. "Sorry?"

"Trick of treat?" she repeated. "It is Halloween after all."

He continued to stare at her, his eyebrow slowly starting to rise. "What are you playing at?"

"Why do I have to be playing at anything?" she asked, attempting to sound innocuous. "I'm just trying to figure something out."

"And that is?"

"I'm just curious if what you were doing in the seventh-floor corridor about twenty minutes ago was more of a trick or a treat for you?" She grinned. "My guess is treat."

Louis continued to stare at her, looking as if he had to think about that for a second. It hadn't dawned on him right away, though when it did, the recognition was more than apparent on his face. His eyes grew wider and his mouth curled into a slight frown.

"What were you doing twenty minutes ago?" asked Flynn.

Victoire continued to smile at her bother, as if still she was anticipating an answer from him. She watched as his eyes darted to Sarah for a half a second before he took a deep breath and pushed his chair away from the table. He stood and, without a word, gestured across the room towards the portrait hole.

Victoire bounced out of her seat, but before she went after him, she chanced a glance at Sarah. Suddenly, she was exceptionally interested in keeping her eyes glued down on the work in front of her. So much so, that she seemed to be ignoring the giant ink splotch that was accumulating beneath her quill tip from not moving it.

Victoire quickly followed after Louis, just managing to catch up to his quick strides as they reached the portrait hole.

"Louis William Weasley. You're asking for it."

Louis didn't even look at her until they were well on the other side of the portrait hole. The second he set foot onto the main corridor, he turned and shrugged at her. "What do you want me to say?"

"What are you doing?"

"Right now? In the future? In fifteen minutes?"

"With Sarah."

His face immediately said he didn't want to talk about this, but his shoulders shrugged.

"You don't know?"

He shrugged again.

"Are you trying to start trouble?" she asked. "Because Nicki will probably go mental when she hears this. Natalie probably won't be too happy either."

"I don't care what Natalie thinks."

"What about Nicki?"

He shrugged again

She mocked his shrug. "That's all you've got to say for yourself?"

He shrugged.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "So what? Are you just going to make your way through Nicki's dorm room until everyone's been ticked off your list?"

He shook his head and smiled a little. "I don't have a list, Vic. Give me some credit."

She looked away from him. It was hard to get mad at Louis—or rather, it was hard to stay mad at him. There was always such a playful, laid back nature in the way he approached things that it always seemed like she was the one who was overreacting to whatever the current issue at hand was. Even the way he stood there smiling made her suddenly wonder why exactly she was giving him a hard time.

"Louis, Louis, Louis…" she sighed.

He laughed. "What?"

"You're asking for it."

"Asking for what?" he asked coolly. "Nicki to bitch at me? Even if this never happened, she'd still do that. At least I'm giving her a halfway decent reason this go around." He paused for a long moment. "Are you going to tell her?"

"Am I not supposed to?"

He shrugged for probably the tenth time. "I don't care one way or the other."

She scrunched her face up in confusion. "If you don't care, then why is this a secret?"

"I never said it was," he said. "It's more that it's new. I was waiting to see where it went before I started telling people. All we've done is kiss a few times, so it's hardly like I've gone and proposed."

She stared at him.

"Also, I find it funny that _you're_ asking why anyone would want to keep a relationship a secret."

"I had a reason."

"Which was what?"

"Because Ted and I wanted to spend some time together before everyone decided to throw their opinions on us," she said. "Before Mum and Dad went mental."

He nodded as if he agreed with that.

"Mum and Dad aren't going to go mental if they hear you're with Sarah," she added. "There's a difference."

"They won't, but Nicki probably will. And I'd rather avoid that while it's still so new. It's why I haven't said anything."

Victoire sighed and looked away. "Why Sarah?"

"Why Ted?" he countered.

She made a face. "Are you just going to turn everything I ask back around on me?"

He smiled. "I just want you to be able to listen to yourself before you give me shit."

"My situation is _a lot_ different."

"Why? Because you two have been best buddies for so long?" he asked, almost patronizingly. "I know Sarah and I were never the best of friends, but we've been friends for years now. Things have changed, which I assume is the same sort of deal you and Ted had happen. One day you can just sort of realize you feel different about someone. You, of all people, should know that."

She rolled her eyes. Yes, she of all people should know that, but it still didn't convince her that her brother was going through anything similar to what she and Ted had gone through.

"You say this is new?" Victoire asked, crossing her arms across her chest. "How new are we talking? Days? A month?"

"About three days, maybe" he said, smiling a little. "Seriously, it just started happening. I'm sort of shocked it got out so fast. How did you find out?"

"I have sources," she said hastily before returning to her original question. "And only three days? I was convinced you were going to tell me that it's been happening since this summer."

He shook his head. "I started fancying her over the summer, but nothing happened."

"So, all those times Sarah randomly turned up when Nicki wasn't around, but you just so happened to be—?"

Louis started to laugh. "What, you think I planned it out for her to get there early so she and I could be alone before Nic got home?"

"Yes, I actually did."

He shook his head, still smiling. "If only I had been clever enough to think of that then, but she was telling the truth when she came over looking for Nic. It was all just a coincidence." He smiled. "A very convenient coincidence, but still a coincidence."

Victoire studied his face. He looked as if he was being serious, and she realized that he really had no reason to lie. After all, what was the point? The secret was out.

She sighed and glanced back towards the portrait hole. "But you actually fancy her, right? Not just quick sort of thing. You've got actual feelings?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about this with you."

"Why not?" she asked, looking putout.

"Because you're my sister," he said before he took a step around her and back towards the portrait hole.

"Louis, I really like Sarah," Victoire said, watching as the portrait hole swung open. "She's a nice girl. If you do something stupid, Nicki's not the only one who will probably kick your arse."

"Well, I like her too," he said over his shoulder, just as he stepped through the hole. "So, how about I don't go doing something stupid?"

She didn't hesitate for even a moment to follow after him back into the common room. "Wait, so am I not supposed to say anything, or am I allowed to say something?"

"Do me a favor," Louis said, stopping to face her. "Just keep it quiet until I can work out how to tell Nic without her wanting to curse me. Okay?"

Victoire shrugged as if she could agree with that. She supposed avoiding as much bloodshed as possible was always the best route to go. Not to mention, who was she to go around telling other people's secrets? That would be rather hypocritical.

Louis said nothing further, but turned on the spot and walked straight back over to where he had been sitting earlier. Victoire watched as Sarah immediately looked up and asked him something, and continued to watch as Louis nodded yes to whatever it was she had asked. Seconds later, Sarah glanced over at Victoire in a seemingly startled manner, but quickly mustered a weak smile when she saw she was being watched. Victoire returned the smile brightly.

"So?" asked Whit, who appeared just at that moment. "What happened?"

"I guess something's going on," Victoire said, turning her attention onto to her, "but it's new so they don't know quite what yet. He hasn't told Nicki and I'm not supposed to talk about things until he does, I guess."

Whit shook her head. "You Weasleys sure love making things difficult on yourselves, don't you?"

* * *

A/N: Yes, yes, many of you saw Louis and Sarah coming; most were just waiting for it to surface. :) I've actually had a few requests for companion stories from this series. People asking for certain scenes or stories that Ted and Victorie's POV wouldn't necessarily have access to. I've only entertained the idea a little, but I'll admit that some of you have got me thinking...and the last time you got me thinking, "The Start", "The Spark", and this story here were born...

While I have plans to certainly expand my next-gen universe, I hadn't thought about expanding it in the Ted/Vic period (I'd thought about going to the younger set of cousins). But now I'm curious about expanding it where it already lays in addition to all of that. I will say that if I do any other story from this specific set of characters, Louis and Sarah would be one of them (not a series, mind you, just a small story). They've actually got (what I think) is an interesting little story, and most of it you don't even get to see since Victoire can only be privy to so much of it as a sister. (And yes, I sometimes DO think I'm crazy for actually planning out these B-character story lines to the extent I do--knowing they won't really see the light of day since they don't fully concern the main characters--but I can't help it, lol).

I don't know, it's just something I'm thinking about...


	15. On the Second Floor

When Ted turned up for his overnight shift on an early November evening, he couldn't help but notice that St. Mungo's seemed rather hectic for this late in day. Things felt busy— or rather, it felt like things had been busy, but were now in the process of settling down. The sensation in the air made Ted feel as though he may have just missed something frantic. If this was the case, then his timing really couldn't have been much better.

As he entered the lab, his suspicions weren't confirmed nor denied. Everyone around the room looked as if they were up to business as usual—Nate was busy adding ingredients to a cauldron over at the cook station, Durrin was busy reading over patient files at his desk, and Hazel was…well, she was scribbling something down at her own desk. Ted couldn't really be bothered to watch much longer to press for more details.

"Hey," said Nate, looking up over his cauldron at Ted. "Are you actually early?"

Ted forced a reluctant smile. Yes....yes, he was. He had gone and memorized every shift he had that week in which he happened to relieve Hazel, so as to be sure he was never late. Hazel made the schedule, and she tended to be rather vindictive on the following week's shifts if anyone forced her to stay longer than she had to. Unfortunately, Ted had learned this the hard way during the very first week he and Victoire were together. He'd come in late twice—once by all of five minutes—and Hazel had made his following week's schedule hell. He'd been given overnights followed by full day shifts; a schedule that had left him a couple hours of free time in between that he couldn't do much more than sleep with. It had been the main reason why he'd been particularly exhausted in those early weeks of his relationship.

Hazel stood up and clapped her hands together. "Guess that means I can go home early, then."

"Guess so," said Ted, his reluctant smile still present.

"Okay, now I…?" interrupted Durrin, his tone of a preoccupied nature; the kind that said he wasn't paying attention to anything else going on at the moment. "I've finished this part," he held up a handful of patient files, "and now I have to…?" He looked around at the other faces in the room, as if prompting them for a response.

"You go do patient rounds," said Hazel slowly, as if she was talking to a child.

Ted cringed as memories of her talking to him like that flooded his sense. He hated that tone. It was like nails on a blackboard every time he heard it.

"Right," Durrin nodded. "That's what I…" He stood and grabbed at his patient files, shifting them awkwardly from hand to hand as he made his way towards the door. He'd actually almost made it all the way there before Hazel spoke up again.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Durrin stopped and looked back, his folders looking dangerously close to being dropped and spilled all over the floor. "Am I?"

"You tell me," said Hazel as she crossed her arms across her chest and suddenly shot both Ted and Nate silencing glares. "And neither of you tell him. He has to learn this."

Nate sighed loudly from across the room, though Ted simply shot Durrin a sympathetic look. What he'd forgotten was obvious—he needed to put on ward robes if he was going anywhere that had to deal with patients—but Hazel's brand of what Nate called, "tough love" definitely got to be a bit excessive at times. It would be one thing if it was the difference between a successful antidote and accidentally buggering one up, but ward robes…? She couldn't just remind him?

Durrin looked down at his patient files once more and then back around the room, his copper colored hair clashing drastically against a poster of a purple spattergroit pustule that hung behind him. Ted could actually see the gears working overtime in his head as he thought about Hazel's question. Durrin had been done with his training for over a couple weeks now, but was still learning how to handle himself on his own day to day. He forgot little things, like putting on his ward robes, but even the best of them needed to be reminded of things from time to time. Hazel seemed to be of the impression that the second you were done with training that _everything _suddenly came to you naturally, but even Ted had to admit he was still picking up new things everyday.

Not Hazel, though. She felt the most effective way of teaching was putting people on the spot, and they'd all been through it. It was Durrin's turn now.

After a minute, Durrin's eyes finally landed on the spot where the ward robes hung. "Ohhh…"

"Ohhh…" Hazel reiterated matter-of-factly. "Honestly, you've had to wear those things hundreds of times, Durrin. How is it that you constantly forget that?"

"Give him a break, Hazel," Nate muttered. "He's had eight billion things thrown at him the last few months. He's not going to remember everything all the time."

"And what if that thing I give him a break on is something that's the difference between life and death?" Hazel asked, rounding on him.

Nate snorted a laugh. "Right, I've forgotten how many patients we've lost due to uniforms violations. It's a downright pandemic."

Hazel scoffed her typical, 'ready for whatever Nate could throw at her,' scoff. This was always the fun part.

"I'm going to go," Durrin said, already sensing the spat that was about to occur. Ted threw him a quick nod, but he was the only one. He appeared to be the only one who had heard him.

"The point is—" Hazel continued, her eyes still narrowed on Nate.

"His potion work is fine," Ted interrupted, feeling the need to back up Durrin and Nate here. "It's the bureaucratic stuff he's struggling with. Making sure the right signature goes on the right form. Making sure the file gets taken to the right department. Making sure he logs things properly…"

"Making sure to remember to dress himself properly," Nate joked.

"I've watched him with his potions," Ted continued, still staring at Hazel. "And so have you. He's careful, and when he has questions, he asks. I'd rather him forget to put on some bloody robes than forget a stroke count on some sensitive antidote."

"I'm going to have to agree," said Nate.

Hazel glared at him. "Of course you are…"

Nate rolled his eyes. "Are you going to go and get your feelings hurt because I agree with Lupin over you?"

Ted's expression turned puzzled at hearing that. They never agreed on anything. Why would she suddenly now get her feelings hurt?

Hazel scoffed once again and turned back to her desk. "Whatever. All I can say is that I'm happy I've been promoted so that I don't have to put up with any more of this boys' club crap than I need to."

Nate muttered, "Blah, blah, blah…" under his breath before he shot Ted an eye roll on Hazel's behalf.

Ted shrugged a little, but turned away from the scene at hand. It had actually been over a month since the last time he'd gotten to properly see Nate and Hazel go at it like this. Ever since Hazel's promotion, his shifts with both Nate and her together had depleted to none, and he'd missed out on all the back and forth bickering. Well, perhaps 'missed out' was the wrong phrase…

Regardless, as much as Hazel claimed to be annoyed by Nate's constant need to under mind and pick arguments with her, the fact remained that she was the one who made the schedule. She had the complete power to put the two of them on opposite shifts so that they'd never, ever had to see each other; yet, week in and week out, whenever Hazel did have to fill her shifts with junior researcher support—what Nate, Ted, and Durrin were—time and time again, it was Nate who filled the majority of those positions. She was the one who put herself in that position.

"Can I ask you both a question?" Hazel asked suddenly, swinging around in her chair.

"I don't know, can you?" asked Nate.

She ignored him as she set to work packing up her things for the day. "You two have been testing Durrin on his dragon pox information, haven't you?"

"Sure I am," said Nate, though it sounded more than sarcastic.

Ted shrugged as if to say he did, which was true. From time to time, he did test Durrin on his dragon pox stats and case studies, though probably not as much as Hazel would prefer it to be. It was nowhere near as hardcore as she had once done to him.

"Because," Hazel continued, staring at them both before pulling her bag up over her shoulder. "That Russian trip is going to pop up on you two faster than you think. It's supposed to be in January, and in case you've forgotten, I'm not going this year."

"I promise you, we have not forgotten that," said Nate.

She threw him a weary look. It was fairly obvious that Hazel was happy to be rid of the dragon pox group work that dealt with trips to Russia and stressful presentations, but it was also obvious that she was worried about everything they'd done now suffering due to the lack of her initiative. She had been the driving force in keeping everyone on their toes and everyone organized. She had poured a lot of time and effort into that project; only to hand the reigns over to Nate who, while intellectually qualified to do the job, wasn't the world's most organized or driven person.

Even Ted had to admit, with Hazel in charge of things, this time last year she had already made sure he was reading two books a week on dragon pox, studying day in and day out the various case studies, and was quizzing him on every shift with every chance she got. With Nate in charge now, he had only just recently even pulled the case studies out for Durrin to look at; not to mention that it was Ted who had to remind Nate about what books Durrin should be reading.

"We'll be fine," said Nate. "If there's one thing I know, it's dragon pox. Durrin will learn as he goes." He glanced at Ted. "My method is a lot less stressful than what you put Lupin through."

Ted shrugged. It had been stressful, that was true, but he had also learned a lot. He couldn't deny that.

"Plus," Nate added. "We don't even know when the Russian trip is yet, so for all you know, Durrin's got a pissload of time."

"I hope for your sake that you're right," Hazel said, turning to leave, but stopped abruptly once she reached the door. "Oh, before I go. Ted, you need to go downstairs and monitor Durrin."

Ted looked up at her, not having the slightest clue what that meant. "I have to what, now?"

"Go downstairs and monitor Durrin," she repeated in her nails on a blackboard tone. "Make sure he's doing what he's supposed to be doing."

"Why?"

"Because he's still new at his job and we need to know he's doing it properly," said Nate, surprisingly siding with Hazel.

Ted stared from one to the other, still wondering where this little task had come from. "Why didn't you tell me this before he left?"

"Because he can't know you're monitoring him," Nate said obviously. "This is essentially after-training-training. It's a bit patronizing to tell someone they're on their own, but then follow after them just to make sure they're on point."

"But at the same time," said Hazel, "we can't risk _not_ doing this when we're dealing with people's lives."

Nate nodded. "That's why you have to make some excuse up for being down there that has nothing to do with Durrin, but then just keep an eye on him."

Ted blinked. "Since when have we started doing this? You didn't do this for me."

Nate and Hazel exchanged amused smiles.

Ted made a face. "You did do this for me?"

"We've always done this," Nate said.

"Even for you," said Hazel.

"You really think it was a coincidence how I'd turn up and go flirting with all the nurses while you were doing patient rounds?" Nate asked, laughing a little. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved the excuse, but seriously, I'm not that pathetic."

Hazel opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't say it," said Nate, cutting her off before she could. He turned back to Ted. "But now that it's been over a year, you can be informed of this little detail. Think of it this way, it's like the buddy system. You get to be Durrin's buddy and watch over him, just like I did for you."

"And just like the three other people who came before you that all quit," Hazel joked while smirking at Nate. "It's nice that you finally managed to keep one, Nate."

Nate made his voice purposely high pitched and squeaky. "'It's nice that you finally managed to keep one, Nate...'"

"Anyway," Hazel continued, ignoring Nate and instead looking back at Ted, "you're somewhat accountable if Durrin screws up when you're supposed to be monitoring him, so," she gestured to the door, "I'd get to it."

Ted's brow furrowed, though he was still unsure as to how he was just now finding out about this. If he'd known he could be responsible for potential screw-ups Durrin could make, then he'd sure as hell be keeping a better eye on him.

"Don't forget to wear your ward robe," Nate called after him.

"Right, remind him and not Durrin. Remind the one who knows."

"I don't want to be responsible if Ted screws up," Nate said, smiling smugly. "Old habits die hard."

Hazel rolled her eyes, but said nothing more as she walked over to hold the door open. It took Ted a second to realize she was waiting for him to follow.

With a disgruntled sigh, he stood from his desk, having realized that all the work he had planned on getting done today was obviously going to have to be put off until later. He walked over to pull a ward robe on, making a point of flailing it around for Hazel's benefit, and reluctantly followed her out into the corridor.

"How is it that I just now am finding out about this?" Ted said, walking two steps behind her towards the lifts.

She shrugged. "Nate was doing it for Durrin early on, but he's been swamped with other things lately and we all figured that you're apt enough to handle it now." She glanced at him before she pushed the lift button to go downstairs, the door opening immediately. "It's not a punishment, Ted. It's actually the opposite, considering you've only been here a year and a half."

Ted didn't have anything to say to that. He was too busy trying to think of an excuse to tell Durrin when he turned up downstairs to see what he was up to. He was such a shit liar…

At the life stopped on the second floor, he stepped off and immediately noticed that things did, in fact, seem busier than usual down here on the Magical Bug ward. Healers were walking around and instructing nurses and Trainee-Healers on what they should be doing and what procedures needed to be followed; visitors were busy popping in and out of the various patients' rooms. There was no immediate sign of Durrin, but that wasn't to say he wasn't off checking experimental antidote results in someone's room.

"Hi, Ted," said a friendly voice he immediately recognized. Behind the nurses' station, Agnes, one of the senior-level nurses, stood smiling at him.

He grinned a little. "Hi."

She pointed to the room that was just off to the right of where they were standing. "Durrin's in there if you're here to check. From what I can tell, he's doing fine."

Ted gawked a little. Even the nurses knew? Honestly, where had he been?

At that exact moment, as if called, Durrin surfaced from the room Agnes has indicated toward with a stack of folders awkwardly positioned in his arms. He seemed to be struggling with trying to hold the pile together while marking a chart with his quill at the same time. Like earlier, he looked as if he was seconds from dropping the entire thing.

"It's easier of you just carry a few," Ted said, hoping with all hope that those charts didn't suddenly fall from his arms.

Durrin looked up, looking surprised to see him there. "Yeah, you're right. I probably should. With this many, I feel like I'm getting them mixed up." He laughed a little. "That would be pretty bad to screw up antidote test results because I marked the wrong patient, huh?"

Ted started at him, Hazel's words of, '_you're somewhat accountable if Durrin screws up when you're supposed to be monitoring him'_ ringing in his ears. Yes…that would _very _bad if he mixed up the files and marked the wrong patient results. It could set back potion trials that they'd been working on for months.

He reached out and grabbed half of Durrin's folders before placing them on the nurses' station. "If you have this many in the future, just leave some up here. You can come back and get them."

Durrin nodded. "Right. Thanks." He shrugged a little sheepishly. "Sometimes," he sighed, "I feel like I'm making dumb mistakes because things just tend to get really overwhelming around here."

Ted nodded, knowing all to well what he was going through.

"It's just coming out of training and having to know all of this," he gestured around the ward, "not to mention all of this dragon pox stuff now coming at me, and the fact that I feel like I don't even have a life anymore outside of these walls. It's enough to make a person mad."

"Yeah, it's a real pain in the arse," Ted agreed. "It's why so many people quit."

"Well, I'll admit that I have been wondering when I get my life back," he said. "When exactly does that happen?"

Ted looked away and laughed a little.

"That's not a very reassuring sounding laugh, Lupin."

"You'll get parts of your life back," he said, "and soon enough, you'll fall into a groove and learn to plan your life around it. But honestly," he shrugged, "I'd get used to it if I were you."

Durrin stared at him as his eyes grew noticeably larger. "That wasn't supposed to make me feel better, was it?"

Ted laughed again. "Just hang in there." He pointed at the folders in his hands. "How many more of those you got?"

"Just the last room. The spattergroit blokes."

"Tell you what," Ted said, looking down at the folder pile on the nurses' station that he had just collected from him. "You do that and I'm going to double check and make sure you marked these correctly." He paused awkwardly, knowing that may sound a little overbearing. "You know, to help you out…"

"That'd be great," Durrin said, almost enthusiastically. "I'd appreciate it. The last thing I need is Hazel breathing down my arse because I didn't cross my T's and dot my I's properly."

"Which she will do," Ted said before he turned to pick up the top folder of the stack, "loudly and obnoxiously, and until you're deaf in at least one ear."

Durrin made no point in hiding his laughter, though he added nothing more before carrying off to the last patient room, leaving Ted behind with his stack of patient files to review.

Ted began scanning each one dutifully, noticing quickly that Durrin had actually done everything he was supposed to do. Even with the odds against him, what with him carting around ten identical folders and patient reports that were begging to be mixed up with each other, everything was in correct order. Each report was properly marked and annotated; nothing was marked improperly. That was reassuring.

Ted tossed the last of the folders back onto the top of the stack and leaned himself against the counter to wait. If Durrin kept this up, then this faux-babysitting job was going to be a breeze.

Then again, why shouldn't it be? Just as he told Hazel, Durrin was bright and knew what he was doing; he would never have been hired had he not. In fact, it was just when Hazel was around telling him what to do that he tended to mess up. Now that was an unsurprising coincidence...

With a heavy breath, Ted began rubbing the bridge of his nose; his thoughts now wandering to Victoire, as they often did when he found a lull in his day. He immediately remembered that he needed to write her back after her last letter, which he'd received a few days earlier. As much as he loved getting letters from her—and he did—he had to admit that keeping up with her pace of writing every couple of days wasn't something he was good at. Other than not being much of a writer to begin with, he never really felt as if he had much to say. He had his moments where he'd come up with something sweet or particularly sexy, but other than that, there was really nothing exciting to share. His life was pretty dull when she wasn't around.

The only semi-new piece of information he really had to offer to make his letter someone relevant were some small details pertaining to Simon's impending wedding, which Victoire had been asking about ever since she'd heard Susan had agreed to marry him. It seemed she was mostly concerned about the date; how she hoped it was either after she was out of school or during a time where she happened to be home so she could attend. All Ted had gathered from Simon was that both he and Susan wanted to do things before the baby came. Apparently, Susan had gone and gotten her heart set on getting married on New Year's Eve, but whether it would happen or not was the big question, considering planning a wedding over the span of a couple of months was a task in itself.

Granted, having a tentative, possible, maybe, _kind of _date for this wedding was a fairly insignificant detail to write to Victoire about, but she would hopefully be satisfied that he could tell her _something_. She seemed to want to know everything that was going on on his end, but Ted couldn't be bothered to press the issue with Simon because…well, because he didn't really care about the details. He wasn't a fan of weddings, so the details didn't interest him. He only needed to know where the wedding was and what time he needed to be there. Everything else didn't matter since, as far as he was concerned, weddings in general were arbitrarily grandiose. He didn't understand the hype or people's obsession with them.

"And there we have it," Durrin said, returning at that very moment with his final folder completed. "Done and done."

Ted grinned, not even bothering to check whether or not it'd been done correctly. "Great."

"So," Durrin asked, tucking his quill behind his ear. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry?"

"What'd you come down here for?"

"Oh." Ted pursed his lips and glanced around the room in search of an excuse. "I, um, brought a file down here." He gestured to the nurses' station. "Then I just decided to hang out for a bit. Get away from Hazel and Nate arguing, you know."

Durrin's face looked as if he understood that all too well. "They argue all the damn time. Why is that?"

"Believe it or not, they used to date," Ted muttered. "And they still hook up from time to time, so I can't even claim to know what they are. Their relationship is one of the daftest things I've ever seen."

Durrin hummed as he reached out to pick up his other files from the counter top. "Sadly enough, that actually explains lot."

"Doesn't it?" Ted agreed as he followed Durrin back to the lifts, where the doors had just opened to release a crowd of people who were now pushing and shoving their way onto the second-floor. Among them, a familiar face had appeared; one that was already smiling brightly the second she noticed the pair of them.

"Hello, you two," said Elizabeth Cole, looking from Ted to Durrin. She was out of her usual lime green Healer robes and instead dressed in normal street clothes for once. She looked exceptionally clean and well-put together, what with her hair down and makeup on as if she actually was doing something that had nothing to do with this hospital. It actually reminded Ted that people other than him had lives outside of this hospital.

Durrin smiled a little. "Hi, Liz. You look nice. Actually escaping this place for once?"

She made a face that seemed to say even she was surprised by this revelation. "Yes, believe it or not, I managed to get myself an evening off."

"And yet, you're still here?" Ted asked.

"What can I say," she said, smirking a little. "I can't stay away." She gestured to a stack of papers she was carrying in her hands. "Actually, I had a little time before Dave gets off work, so I thought I'd stop by here and take care of these." She held up the papers.

"What are those?" asked Ted.

She peeled off a flyer from a stack that she was carrying. "I have to promote." She glanced between the two of them. "What are you two doing tomorrow evening?"

Durrin reached out to take one of the flyers. "St. Mungo 373rd Annual Charity Event." He looked back at her. "What's this?"

"You've had to have heard about it," she said. "It's been posted all over the hospital for the last month. People all over the building are talking about it. They have it every year to raise money for the hospital."

Durrin shook his head.

Elizabeth turned to Ted to back up her claim, but he just shrugged. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but he didn't want to admit that. He didn't want to be somehow suckered into going again. Hazel had made them all go last year and he had wanted to bash his head in about twenty minutes after arriving. The entire event simply brought together a huge bunch of pretentious, rich, old pureblooded tossers, who, in turn, spent the evening pretending to be caring philanthropists, but in all reality were simply interested in showing off how much money they had. Sure, the hospital benefited, but Ted couldn't take the fakeness all night.

"I think I heard someone mention it a couple weeks ago," Ted mumbled.

She made a sound a tutting sound. "You two work in the department that needs the most funding and you don't even know about the charity event tomorrow?" She shook her head. "Well, it is tomorrow night. There'll be food, games, and all sorts of things to do. I'm going around making sure as many people come as possible."

"Aren't you enthusiastic," Ted joked.

"Only because I have to be," Elizabeth muttered, her enthusiasm immediately dropping several degrees. "All of the Trainee-Healers have been put in charge or getting people to attend. In fact, they're sticking us each in this dreadful dunking booth."

"A what?" Ted asked.

Elizabeth frowned. "For an hour, I sit in this booth where people come along and pay money to throw balls at a target. If you hit the target, I fall into a vat of…who knows what. They want to surprise us."

Both Durrin and Ted laughed, though Durrin added, "Maybe I will go."

"If that what it takes to raise money," Elizabeth said dutifully, "then I'll go sit in some mystery substance for an hour."

"As fun as that sounds," Durrin said, handing her flyer back, "I don't see me making it."

"Why not?"

"Because I've got plans already," he said. "Not to mention, I'm hanging out with the one person that _you_ really would rather not have the opportunity to plunge you into a vat of goo."

Elizabeth's expression turned curious. "Who?"

"Your favorite ex."

Her nose wrinkled in antipathy.

"And keep in mind that Stu's got wicked good aim," Durrin added. "I learned that the hard way whenever I had to play Keeper against him in school. That kid can get a Quaffle through an unblocked ring at like seventy yards."

"Maybe you just a poor Keeper," Ted joked.

Durrin shot him dirty look. "Um, I took Gryffindor to the House Cup both years I was Captain."

"But you didn't win either time," added Elizabeth flippantly before she immediately added. "And you are right about Stu having good aim. Then again, if he came, he'd probably spend loads of money watching me fall over and over again."

"Probably enough to fund the hospital for a week," said Durrin.

"That could be a good thing," Elizabeth offered.

Ted took a flyer to examine for himself, "Are you really willing to get repeatedly doused over and over again just to earn Mungo's some money?"

"It's really important cause?" she said, sounding more like she was asking rather than telling them. "And anyway, what about you, Ted? Why don't you come and bring the girlfriend?"

"I would love to bring her anywhere if I could," he said as he absently read the flyer, "but since she's at school, that really isn't an option."

Elizabeth stared at him. "Wait, she's still in school?"

He rolled his eyes and handed her back her flyer.

"No," she said quickly, realizing how he may have taken that, "I'm just surprised." She looked at Durrin. "I thought she was in his year."

"Who'd you think was in my year?" Durrin asked before he looked back at Ted. "I didn't know your girlfriend was still in school."

"That's probably because I've never mentioned it."

"What year is she?".

"She's a first-year," he said sarcastically.

Durrin smirked. "I'm fairly sure that's illegal, but whatever gets you off."

"She's in her seventh-year."

"Yeah?" Durrin asked, sounding intrigued. "I bet I know her, then."

"Of course you know her," Elizabeth said, staring at Durrin as if he was mental. "I've seen you have conversations with her on countless—" She stopped and suddenly looked at Ted. "Unless…wait, he has no idea who you're talking about, does he?"

Ted shook his head. Elizabeth was the only person in this hospital who knew specifically that Victoire was his girlfriend due to a lucky guess on her part several months earlier. He'd still yet to actually tell anyone.

"Tell me what house she's in and I'll bet that I can guess who she in three tries," offered Durrin.

Ted stared at him. He knew if he played along, Durrin would easily get the answer. They both had been in the same house and, as Elizabeth had said, he and Victoire had known each other at school. At this point, it seemed like it was just a matter of admitting it. Durrin was just one or two lucky guesses of his own from figuring things out.

"She's in Gryffindor," said Ted.

Durrin's eyes lit up. "Oh, so I definitely know her. Okay, let's see, who was below me." His face grew pensive. "Is it Davina Sharply?"

Ted shook his head.

"It's not Jane Whitters, because she's dating a friend of mine, so that leaves…" He paused for a long moment. "Is it Victoire Weasley?"

Ted nodded.

"No, shit," Durrin said, sounding almost doubtful. "Really? _You_ really pulled her?"

Elizabeth swatted him in the arm.

"I just didn't even know they knew each other," Durrin said, grabbing his arm and throwing Elizabeth an indignant look. "I mean, just wow, Lupin. Nice work."

Ted rolled his eyes, but still smiled.

"She's a great girl," he added. "We had the same circle of friends and hung out a few times. I was always closer with her sister, though. We played Quidditch together."

"Everything goes back to Quidditch," Elizabeth muttered. "It's always Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch with you boys. You and Dave…I need friends who aren't obsessed with Quidditch."

Durrin ignored her. "But yeah, Dominique and Victoire are very different people."

"Yeah," Ted agreed. "Nicki's a piece of work."

"That's the truth," he laughed, though he suddenly began to frown. "Nicki drove me mad last year after she ended up getting suspended from the final match— the one for the House Cup. She went and stunned this other girl in the common room during some fight—"

"Was that that thing with Colleen Lynch?" Elizabeth asked. "Because I thought that was just a rumor."

"Definitely not," Durrin said, smiling as he said it. "I saw the whole thing and I can safely say it was probably one of the funniest things I've ever had to witness." His face fell again. "Well, that is until I find out my Seeker wasn't allowed to play in the final match, we couldn't find a well-enough replacement, and we ended up losing the cup to fucking Hufflepuff."

Ted made a face. "I was in Hufflepuff."

"Well, that explains a lot," Durrin joked.

"Okay, _anyway_," Elizabeth said, gesturing to the flyers and then to Ted. "If Victoire's not around, then," she smiled, "what else do you have to do tomorrow?" She held up a flyer and shook it.

Ted's expression turned doubtful as he searched his head for some valid excuse to not have to go to this thing. "Well, um, I've got a friend who…" Simon suddenly popped into his head, "needs some moral support. Yeah, see, he accidentally got his girlfriend pregnant and he doesn't know what to do, so…." He trailed off, but smiled. That sounded like as good an excuse as any.

Elizabeth didn't look like she believed him for a second. "Why not bring him? It may cheer him up."

"Yeah, I doubt that."

"How do you accidentally get someone pregnant these days?" Durrin asked.

He shrugged. "Apparently, the charm didn't work."

Durrin's face instantly looked a little horrified at hearing that. "Wait, how do they not work? Since when might they not work?"

"I said the same thing," Ted said. "I had no idea."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the both of them. "Of course they may not work. That's common sense."

"They teach you that in Healer training, though."

"Actually, my parents taught me that when I was twelve after they sat me down to talk to me about sex," she said.

Durrin suddenly looked preoccupied by his own thoughts. "I need to start being more careful."

"Why weren't you being careful to begin with?" asked Elizabeth, though her face said she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer to that.

"It does make you rethink things, doesn't it?" Ted said, happy to be off the topic of him going to some stupid charity fete. "I mean, think about it. In the heat of the moment, you're not thinking clearly—"

"Yeah!" Durrin agreed. "And you're trying to just get the bloody spell done, so you can," he made an obvious face, "get other things done."

"Are you two honestly listening to yourselves?" Elizabeth asked as she took a step towards the nurses' station. "I'm sure you're both fine." She glanced back at Ted. "And I know for a fact you managed it once, so I'm sure you're doing just as well these days."

Ted face went blank at the surprise of hearing that. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little taken off guard at her saying that, considering neither of them ever talked about it.

Durrin stared between the two of them. He looked confused. "Wait, what?"

"It was a joke, Durrin," said Elizabeth dismissively, playing it off as if it really was a joke. "You'll believe anything, won't you?" She held the flyer once more. "Anyway, if you two change your mind…." She dropped one on the counter, but said nothing else as she turned to walk off down the second-floor corridor.

"I knew that was a joke," Durrin said to Ted, as if feeling the need to make this clear. "Obviously it was a joke."

"Obviously," said Ted, taking a step towards the lifts as the doors opened once more and allowed them entrance. He'd taken a beat pause before Durrin's comment suddenly hit him. "Wait. Why is it obviously a joke?"

"Because there's no way…"

"No way, what?" asked Ted, feeling a bit slighted as the lifts lurched up. He'd never admit to Durrin that that what she'd said hadn't been a joke, but he sure as hell wanted to know why it seemed so hard to believe otherwise.

"Seriously?" Durrin laughed as the lift doors open to the third-floor. "I mean, come on, Ted."

"Come on, what?"

Durrin laughed again as the pair headed down the corridor towards the lab. Apparently, something was very funny.

"What's so damn funny?" Ted asked.

"I'm just saying it's not likely to happen," Durrin said as they reached the lab. "I mean, if you managed to not only pull Victoire, but Liz too…" He laughed harder and pulled the door open to enter. "Well, then I officially need to start hanging out with you more often."

"I really think you'd be surprised by—"

"Hey," Nate interrupted, his chair now rolling away from his desk and blocking their paths from entering any further. "Whatever you're talking about, shut up for a second. I've got news you both need to hear."

Both Durrin and Ted stopped in their tracks. Neither said anything, but instead waited for him to continue.

"While you two were gone, not even five minutes ago, I got an owl," Nate said before he held up a piece of parchment. "I found out the dates for Russia."

"Oh, yeah?" Durrin asked. "That's good, right? You all kept saying how you should know already."

Nate frowned slightly, but set his sights on Ted specifically. "It looks like it's the same as last year. So," he shrugged, "make your plans accordingly."

It took Ted a minute to realize exactly what that meant. The same as last year…That meant…

"The same as last year?" he asked, his face already falling as the words came out of his mouth. "The exact same dates?"

"What was last year?" Durrin asked.

"Five days at the end of December," Nate said. "We get back the day after Christmas."

Durrin groaned. "I have to miss Christmas? That's just not right."

"Wait, wait, wait," Ted said, wanting to make perfectly sure he understood this. "We were told it was going to be later this year. It was supposed to happen in January."

Nate shrugged. "We were lied to."

"That's bullshit," Ted said, his voice growing louder almost immediately. If he had to go to Russia for Christmas again, that put him away from home for yet another holiday season. It put him away for another Christmas, it put him away from his friends and family, it put him away from seeing Victoire when she got back and missing a large chunk of the days she'd be home…

"You're telling me?" Nate said. "This makes three years in a row I have to be away at Christmas. I don't want to do this anymore than you do, Ted."

A pregnant pause filled the room; no one said a thing. Ted's demeanor had gone absolutely livid, but he said nothing as he silently turned and walked back to his desk. He threw himself into his chair and glared at the wall in front of him. He felt like throwing something. He wasn't the type to take his anger out physically, but in the heat of that moment, he picked up a nearby quill and chucked it against the wall. Remnants of ink that had been on the tip left a small smear mark down the length of the surface in front of him.

"This is shitty," Durrin finally said, breaking the silence.

"This is beyond shitty," Ted muttered, making no attempt to look away from wall he was glaring at.

"This is part of the job," Nate reminded them both.

Ted threw his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. In an instant, he was reminded of the letter he was supposed to write to Victoire that he'd just been thinking about. Now he had to tell her that the already little time they had together when she got home had been shortened further. Not only would he not be around when she got back, he wouldn't be around for days after that either. He was going to be Russia instead…

With a shake of his head, he couldn't help but wish that things would go back to five minutes ago. Back when his biggest issue had been _not_ having anything of note to write about.


	16. A Flip of a Card

Victoire couldn't stop sniffling. She'd been sneezing and coughing for the last ten minutes, her bones felt achy, and a definite scratchy feeling was growing stronger and stronger at the back of her throat with each time she swallowed. This, of course only meant one thing—it was November, the most miserable month of the year. Somehow, the month of November always managed to bring not only damp, chilly weather to Hogwarts, but every year—without fail—it also happened to bring a special delivery head cold chosen especially for Victoire. It seemed this year's had just arrived.

She had felt herself getting congested earlier that morning, and by her afternoon Potions class, she knew immediately that she was coming down with something irksome. It was like clockwork. Something about the changing of the weather in the winter time always brought this on her. Her nose became like a foghorn that was beckoning ships at bay and she could barely breathe without making a wheezy, nasally sound that—

"If you go to the hospital wing," said Whit, who was staring at Victoire from across the table in the library that evening, "Madame Pomfrey will literally be able to clear your head in about five minutes."

Victoire coughed. "I don't feel like walking down there."

"But you feel like sitting here and hacking up a lung?" she asked, her tone curt.

Victoire forced a meek smile that Whit did not return; instead she had already returned to her Astronomy work.

Victoire frowned. She had no idea why, but Whit was in a terrible mood today. She had been especially short with her since that morning, but Whit claimed she was just stressed and having an off day. Victoire wasn't sure she'd call it an off day, per se, especially since the last several days had proven to be a series of—what she would consider—off days for Whit. As of late, she appeared to be constantly preoccupied and in an ever present crap mood; it just so happened that today had her particularly aggravated about something.

With loud sniffle, Victoire returned to her Potions book and stared blankly down at the words on the page. It was next to impossible to concentrate with her head feeling as though someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls. She had read the same paragraph about Shape-Shifting Potions four times; each time retaining as much information as she had the first time she'd read it. She was about to slam her book shut and just say to hell with her, but couldn't even manage to do that before a coughing fit overcame her.

"Vic, come on," Whit snapped, tossing her quill down in frustration and narrowing her eyes on her. "Just go to the hospital wing and make yourself better. It's annoying."

Victoire stared at her a little wide eyed. She'd never seen Whit snap like that.

Whit sighed heavily before picking up her quill and returning to her book.

"What's wrong?" Victoire asked.

"I'm sorry," she said without looking at her. "I'm having a bad day."

"This is more than just a bad day."

Whit looked away from her book for just a moment, though her face was tense. "I've just got a lot on my mind lately. I'm getting frustrated over stupid things more easily than I usually would."

Victoire suddenly had to cough again, but she held her breath so as to not risk incurring another possible dirty look from Whit. Unfortunately, it was a battle she quickly lost as another fit trounced her ability to hold it in.

"Sorry," she said between coughing.

Whit abruptly stood and looked back into the shelves of books. "I need to find a book."

Victoire stared at her. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she might cough again.

Whit was now watching her face, and in the span of three seconds, her expression went from annoyed to seemingly apologetic. She attempted to force a smile. "Vic, really, it's nothing you've done. It's…" she shook her head and trailed off, "never mind. I'm just being stupid."

Victoire had to wonder that if maybe she wasn't sick, all of this behavior would make more sense. "Whit, if something's wrong…"

"It's nothing," she said before she turned quickly on the spot to head towards the bookshelves behind them. In her haste, she nearly walked straight into Dominique as she approached their table.

"Watch where you're going," Dominique joked, her tone laced with faux bitchiness.

Whit didn't say a word, but merely took a deep breath and stepped around her before carrying on her way.

Dominique looked back at Victoire. "What's up with her?"

She shrugged. "No idea. She's been acting strangely lately, but she won't talk about it. She claims she's fine."

"Eh, she's not the only one," Dominique said. "Sarah's been acting weird, too."

Victoire glanced down at her work in front of her so as to avoid her sister's eyes. It had been almost two weeks since she'd found out about Louis and Sarah, but it still seemed that Louis hadn't gotten around to telling Dominique yet. He had claimed it was because Sarah wanted to be the one to do it, but Victoire had to wonder when exactly that news was going to break the light of day.

"Maybe there's just something in the water," Dominique added.

"Well, I wish I knew what was wrong with Whit," Victoire mumbled. "You know she's always the type to keep her guard up, so even if something was bothering her, she probably wouldn't say anything unless she absolutely had to."

Dominique nodded as if she understood. "She has been a bit touchy lately, hasn't she?" She paused for a moment and seemed to realize something. "Wait, did she say anything to you about Jack yesterday?"

"What about him?"

"I don't know," she said. "Something about an argument or something?"

"Argument?" Victoire asked.

"Oh," Dominique said, waving her hand as if she was probably mistaken. "Never mind. I was just assuming anyway."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday at Quidditch practice, Jack was in a shitty mood," Dominique said, lowering her voice as she took Whit's vacant chair. "Really piss poor mood. It was really annoying actually, so I started messing with him. I made a joke asking if he and Whit got into a fight—just kidding around, you know? After I said it, he looked angry and made me fly twenty laps, so I thought maybe I'd touched a nerve."

Victoire shrugged. Whit hadn't mentioned anything like that to her, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she hadn't seen Jack all day. He and Whit were usually busy these days—he with Quidditch, she with N.E.W.T. work—but they always found themselves running into each at some point during the day. Today, she had all the same classes as Whit, but yet she hadn't seen him once.

"Maybe…" she said thoughtfully, "but she'd tell me if they got into a fight, so I don't think that's it. Plus, she's been weird for a few days now. If they got into a fight yesterday, it wouldn't explain the last few days."

"I told you I was just assuming," Dominique said. "For all I know, Jack was just in a bad mood and me bugging him just set him off more. It's been known to happen."

Victoire started to laugh, but stopped when another coughing fit took hold of her lungs. She quickly covered her mouth and turned away.

"Are you sick?" Dominique asked before making an unnecessarily grand gesture of pushing her chair away from the table.

"Seems like it."

"So, go to the hospital wing, you dolt. What are you waiting for?"

Victoire groaned. She was well aware that she should go down to the hospital wing, but the fact remained that she really didn't want to. She hated the taste of the potion that Madame Pomfrey administered to decongest people. Worse yet, she could always taste it for days after at the back of her throat. The thought of the disgusting burnt plastic taste that she knew she'd soon have to drink made her want to gag.

"I wish Mum was here," she suddenly mumbled. "She always makes being sick so much easier."

Dominique smiled. "Because she makes hot soup and strokes your hair until you fall asleep?"

Victoire matched her smile. "Yeah."

"Well, Mum would still make you take the nasty, skunky potion that comes along with it, so you might as well go and take it before you get the rest of us sick." She wrinkled her nose. "That is if I didn't already catch it. You always make me sick."

"Sorry," she said, sniffling once more. "Hey, you want to walk down there with me and take the potion, too? It'll make sure you don't get sick."

"Not really," she said. "Unlike you, if I feel myself getting sick, I'd go take care of it before it gets to this—" she pointed at Victoire, "point."

"Come on, Nic…" Victoire begged, smiling sweetly at her. Being sick always brought out the needy side in her. "Please? I'm sick and I don't want to go alone. Pleeeeeeease."

"Oh, now you're just being pathetic," Dominique said, though a reluctant smile crawled across her face. "Where's Ted when you need him? This is all part of his job, not mine."

"You know where he is, and it's not here," Victoire muttered, her thoughts immediately going to Ted and what exactly he would do if she found herself sick around him. The idea of being hugged by him right now sounded almost as good as her mother's soup.

"Whatever, fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'll walk down there with you. It's not like I have anything better to do. The things I do for you…"

"You're the best sister ever," Victoire said brightly, adding extra enthusiasm strictly for her sister's benefit.

Dominique laughed. "You say that because you want something."

It had ended up taking them a half an hour to get Madame Pomfrey to pay attention to them due to Victoire's head cold plaguing more students than just her, but once she was administered a nasty dose of Decongestant Potion, as well as Pepper-Up Potion for good measure, she could already feel herself her throat and sinuses clearing. It always seemed to make so much sense to fight taking the medicine beforehand, but the moment she felt better, she always wondered why she bothered resisting in the first place.

"I can breathe again," Victoire said as both girls walked back towards the library. She took a deep breath as if to demonstrate.

"You would have been able to breathe hours ago if you were so damn stubborn," Dominique said.

"It's was more that I was choosing to be lazy," Vshe said, just as they entered the library to find her things just where she'd left them. Whit was also back from looking for her book, and was now hovering over it intently; looking entirely too busy concentrating on whatever it was she was doing.

"Oh, great," Dominique said suddenly. "She's at it again. Vic, you have to see how stupid this is. It'll make you laugh."

Victoire turned back and saw that Dominique was staring across the room, towards a table where Sarah and Natalie Young sat hunched over something.

"Come on," Dominique said before taking off in their direction. "It's funny."

Victoire nodded as if she'd follow, but quickly refocused on Whit. She really wanted to get to the bottom of things if there really was something to get to the bottom of. She gestured to her sister as if to say, _"Give me a minute,"_ before she went to take her seat from earlier.

"Hi," Victoire said, sitting tentatively across from Whit. "I went to the hospital wing."

"I figured," she said, looking up briefly to inspect her. "You already sound better."

She nodded before Whit returned to her work. "You want to take a break? Nicki said there was something funny to see over there." She pointed across the room.

"I really wanted to finish this," she said, using her quill to gesture to her school work.

"When's it due?"

"Next week."

"Oh, you've got plenty of time."

"Yeah, but I want to finish it tonight," she said obstinately.

Victoire took a slow breath, but continued to watch her. "I know you're tired of me asking this, but if something really were wrong, you could tell me. We could talk about it."

Whit had suddenly stopped writing, but kept her eyes down on her paper. "I know."

"About anything," she added. "You've listened to me countless times. It's about time I got the chance to return the favor."

She looked up at her. Her eyes were cold and stern. "I'm fine."

That was a load of crap if Victoire had ever heard one. She clearly wasn't fine; her demeanor and expression were all but screaming it, but she wasn't going to badger her. Whit wasn't the type who could be probed into talking about something she didn't want to. That much, Victoire knew.

"Okay, well, just so you know," Victoire said as she pushed her chair back from the table. She forced a sympathetic smile before she stood. "I'm going to go over there," she pointed to where her sister was, "if you change your mind."

Whit nodded, but was already back to working.

Victoire hesitated for a moment, but said nothing more before she walked across the room to where Dominique and her friends were currently grouped. Her sister was sitting and leaning over Sarah's shoulder, as if to view something on the table. Across from Sarah, Natalie had an eager look on her face. She seemed to be explaining something to the both of them.

"So, you're going to come into a lot of money soon?" Dominique had said once Victoire approached them.

"According to the reading that Sarah just did," Natalie said brightly, turning quickly to smile at Victoire upon noticing her.

Victoire smiled back and noticed she was shuffling a stack of Tarot cards in front of her—most likely a recently learned Divination skill. People practicing their new found fortune telling abilities after learning them in class was an all too common occurrence around school.

"I could be wrong, though," Sarah said as she scanned her Divination book for any evidence to the contrary. "Tarot reading isn't my strongest area. I'm much better at tea leaf reading and crystal ball gazing."

"It's all rubbish," Dominique said in a bored tone. "It's the dumbest subject there is."

Victoire had to agree with her there. The subject had never been one she'd ever contemplated taking, considering how non factual the information was. It was all based in guess work, and the more cryptic and mental you sounded while studying it, the more likely people were to believe you were some sort of real Seer.

"I think I'm getting better at Tarot reading," Natalie said proudly. "I did Flynn's yesterday and found out he was in for an immediate bit of bad luck. An hour later, he forgot his Charms work and Flitwick gave him detention."

"That's not seeing the future," Dominique said with a roll of her eyes, "that's Flynn being forgetful like he always is."

"Want me to do yours?" Natalie offered.

"No—"

"Oh, please," Natalie begged. "I could use the practice. I just did Sarah's and the cards said she's recently found love, which obviously doesn't make any sense. I must have shuffled the deck wrong."

Victoire took the seat next to Natalie and glanced across the table at Sarah, who was averting her eyes to the ceiling, not saying a word.

Dominique shook her head. "This entire practice is a complete bollocks—"

"Let her practice," Victoire said as she glanced at the cards in Natalie's hand. "It's just for fun. I mean, you heard her," she gestured to Natalie and then to Sarah, "she obviously needs some practice if she coming up with cracked theories about Sarah being in love."

Sarah forced a small smile, which made Victoire smile.

Dominique glared at Victoire. She quickly sighed overdramatically before mumbling, "Fine. I don't buy into this rubbish one way or the other, so it doesn't matter."

Natalie smiled happily as she began shuffling the cards and going about an entire procedure that was apparently necessary for the magic to work. After a very long minute, Victoire was just about to ask her if she ever planned on dealing the cards when Natalie did finally stop shuffling. She slowly flipped a card over like she would open a book and began to inspect it.

"You're curious about something," Natalie said.

"Yes," Dominique said bluntly. "I'm curious why I'm wasting my time doing this."

Sarah and Victoire couldn't help hide their laughter, but Natalie ignored them. "No, that's not it." She flipped another card. "You're curious about an event that occurred recently and what it meant exactly."

"Oh, am I?" Dominique asked sarcastically.

"You find yourself conflicted," she said as she flipped another card. "Conflicted, but in control of the situation."

"As if Nicki would have it any other way," Sarah said.

Natalie flipped over the last card. "You'll come to peace with your conflict though and the end result will satisfy you. I also see it satisfying a second party as well." She studied the cards harder. "A male that you know."

"Well, she had fifty-fifty shot," Dominique joked. "It either had to be a boy or a girl, didn't it?"

Natalie looked up. "So, apparently, you find yourself wondering about the meaning of something that recently happened to you—if there is one. You're conflicted as to how you want to react, but when you finally do, you'll be pleased with the results. And so will this male character."

"Right," Dominique said, sounding bored. "I'm going to tell you what I just heard. Apparently, I'm going to have conflict with some bloke, who's probably being an idiot. I'll be the one to tell him this, which will please me because I'm right. In turn, he'll be pleased too, since I've just made him aware of his idiocy." She shrugged. "That sounds like any other day."

Victoire smiled a little as she watched her sister, but given the description of events, she couldn't help but be reminded of the inevitable news about Sarah and Louis that was bound to surface any day now. Not that she believed in any of this, let alone when someone as inexperienced as Natalie was the one doing the reading, but the clues eerily fit the scenario.

"Want me to do yours, Vicki?" Natalie asked suddenly, cutting into Victoire's thoughts.

"Yes, she does," Dominique said matter-of-factly, gesturing for Natalie to do it. "If I've got to suffer through this, then so does she."

Victoire shrugged as to say she didn't care either way. Natalie immediately began shuffling the cards in her meticulous manner again while everyone at the table watched. Victoire was paying such dull attention to what Natalie was doing that she didn't even notice the boy who had just appeared on her side of the table.

"Hey, Victoire," said a voice that made her turn and look up. It was Liam Brighton, a seventh-year Ravenclaw boy with jet black hair and two different colored eyes—one blue and one green—that were both currently staring at her. He was nice enough, though rumors of him being a prick weren't hard to come by. Then again, she'd heard most of those rumors from Dominique, who said that about most of the boys at school—especially if they played on an opposing Quidditch team as Liam did.

"Hi, Liam," Victoire said, returning the smile politely and out of habit. Dominique had turned to look too, and just as Victoire would have predicted, she had scrunched up her nose in displeasure to make a face at him. He was yet another person on her long list of people whose mere presence seemed to bother her.

"What do _you_ want, Brighton?" Dominique asked.

He forced a cold smile towards her. "I came over here to talk to your sister, not you."

"Well, then," she said sarcastically, making an over-the-top wave of her hand as if to signify that he should continue, "by all means. Don't let me interrupt."

He turned back to Victoire and his face instantly went from cold back to pleasant. He smiled again. "Well, here's the thing. I was just wondering—"

Dominique suddenly laughed. "You're not hitting on her, are you?"

Liam's cold expression returned instantly; he turned to glare at Dominique.

She continued to smile at him as if trying to not laugh again. "You are, aren't you?"

Victoire shot her a look that told her lay off. Was this little display really necessary?

Liam bit his lip and looked back at Victoire. He seemed completely unnerved. "Actually, um, I was just wondering if you finished your Potions work."

"Sure you were," Dominique teased. "That's a pretty weak cover up, Brighton."

"I haven't," Victoire said, ignoring her sister and smiling almost sympathetically. "Not yet."

"Right," he said quickly, looking distracted and more than ready to leave. "All right then, never mind."

"She also has a boyfriend," Dominique added. "So you can move along now." She made a gesture with her hand to shoo him away.

He did just that, and didn't waste another second before he turned to walk back across the room. Dominique turned to watch him go, smiling all the while. Victoire watched, too, and noticed that he returned to a table where Griffin Giggleswick and Henry Davies were both sitting. Liam hadn't sat for two seconds before the other boys at the table all turned and looked back in their direction.

Dominique waved at them before laughing.

"He was harmless," Victoire said. "Did you really have to be such a bitch?"

"I just did you a favor," Dominique said as she turned back around in her chair. "Hell, I did us all a favor. Who wants to listen to Brighton sit there and ramble through some pathetic attempt at asking you out?"

"It was pretty cold, Nicki," Sarah said before she too glanced over her shoulder towards where the boys were sitting.

"Not to mention," Victoire added, "that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thanks."

"I bet Ted would have loved what I just did."

"Ted knows I can take care of myself—" Victoire began before a balled up piece of parchment came sailing across the room towards them. It just grazed Dominique's shoulder before landing square in the center the table. The sound of muffled male laughter followed.

Dominique reached out and picked it up, but didn't immediately turn around. She looked from Natalie to Victoire, both of whom had unobstructed views of where the boys were sitting behind her. "Which one threw it?"

"Davies," Natalie said instantly.

"Go figure. The idiot couldn't hit the ground if he fell," she muttered before she turned around in her chair. "Davies, I'm going to go ahead and assume you were aiming for me and missed, since missing your target is something you do better than anyone."

Several people around the room had stopped working to see what the commotion was about.

Davies merely shrugged and grinned. "Oops, looks like my paper somehow ended up over there," he said, feigning ignorance and casually leaning back in his chair.

"Way to fail," Dominique said as she dropped it on the ground. "Try again next time."

"Hey, Weasley," he said, gesturing to the paper on the floor. "I wrote you a little message. You should read it."

She glanced down to the floor before turning her gaze back on him. "Oh, this should be good. Did you actually manage to form a sentence all by yourself?"

He smirked and shrugged.

She reached down and picked the paper off the floor before she uncrumbled it and scanned whatever was on the page.

"What did he say?" Sarah asked.

"Same old stupid tripe as always," Dominique muttered, rolling her eyes as she'd finished reading. She glanced back down at the letter before a sudden mischievous looking smile crossed her face. She quickly refaced Davies, but not before putting on a look of disgust and loudly addressing the room. "Uggg, no, Davies, I will not sleep with you!"

Several people at the tables around them started laughing. Henry Davies's face went blank for a few seconds before he forced an admitted look of acceptance onto his face. He seemed to realize that he should have known better than to set himself up for something like that.

Dominique threw him smug smile before she turned and sat back down in her chair.

"Funny," Victoire admitted. "Very funny."

"That was great," Natalie added.

"All in a day's work," Dominique said, just as the sound of Davies's voice carried over towards them.

"She wishes…"

Dominique pulled out her wand tucked it just under the table. She hadn't turned around to look, but in the next instant, the chair Davies had been so casually leaning back in suddenly toppled backwards onto the ground. Victoire had just caught the site of him hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Look at that," said Sarah, now turned around in her own seat to look. "He can hit the ground after all."

Several people laughed again, as others gawked and instantly looked in Dominique's direction. However, Dominique continued to casually sit and act as if she hadn't noticed a thing; instead she pointed to one of the Tarot cards in Sarah's open Divination book. "So, what's that one mean?"

"What on earth is going on in here?" came the loud voice of the librarian, Madame Pince. "Mr. Davies, would you get off the floor!"

Victoire watched as he did just that, his dark hair now messy and out of place. He glared straight at the back of Dominique's head, not looking the least bit amused.

"Mr. Davies, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Pince said quickly, pointing towards the exit. "This is a place for study, not for ridiculous antics and horseplay—"

"Dominique Weasley did it!" he said, pointing across the room to her.

"I did not!" she said a little too quickly as she whipped around in her seat.

"My chair didn't accidentally—!"

"Mr. Davies!" said Madame Pince. "Leave. Now." She turned to Dominique. "You too, Miss Weasley."

Her jaw dropped. "I didn't do anything!"

"I can hear your voice from my desk," Pince said tersely. "That's reason enough for me to ask you to leave." She pointed towards the exit again. "Now!"

"Thanks a lot, Davies," Dominique mumbled under her breath before she grabbed at her bag and aggressively tossed it over her shoulder. Victoire watched her as she reached the door and threw Davies a particularly scathing look as she passed him.

"Back to work," Pince said to the group of students who remained. "Anyone else who feels the need to be disruptive will follow the path those two just took."

"Well now…" Sarah whispered once the sound of people returning to what they had been doing before returned to the room.

"That was entertaining," Natalie offered before Dominique's empty chair was suddenly filled by a curious, and surprisingly smiley, looking Whit.

"What was that about?" Whit asked.

"I think Nicki just declared war," Victoire said with a small laugh.

"Maybe that's what her conflict is," Natalie said, holding up her Tarot cards. "And maybe she'll kill Henry and that will be the thing that satisfiers her."

"Yeah, but the reading also said the result would satisfy him, too," Victoire said. "How is being dead going to satisfy him?"

"Then he wouldn't have to put up with her anymore," Sarah offered.

On that, all four girls shared a silent bout of giggles, all while making sure to check over their shoulders to see that Madame Pince wasn't watching and preparing to throw them out in her tirade.

"What reading was this?" Whit asked, looking a little confused.

"Natalie gave her a Tarot card reading," Victoire said.

"You want one?" Natalie asked Whit eagerly. "With everything that just happened, I lost Vicki's energy and it would be good to clear the deck before I try her again."

Whit's eyebrow arched. "Come again now?"

"Where does one find their missing energy?" Victoire joked.

"It'll be fun," Natalie said as she began shuffling the deck in her very precise manner once again.

Victoire glanced at Whit, who looked rather doubtful about what was going on, but she still said nothing as Natalie readied her desk and flipped over the first card.

"You're worried," Natalie said as she studied the card. "You've been very preoccupied by stress and worry over something—" She paused and began tracing some sort of path in the air with her finger over the card. "No, wait. Someone."

Whit's face started to fall. Victoire watched and couldn't help but wonder if the cards were telling Natalie this or whether Whit's poor attitude lately was giving her a blatant hint.

Natalie flipped the next card. "You're confident your worries are based in fact, given that," she flipped the next card, "a stronger force is telling you to go with your gut. You've attempted to address the way you're feeling, but you've hit a wall. A wall that's stressing you out further."

Whit was now staring at Natalie as if she was the center of the universe; as if everything coming out of her mouth was absolutely necessary to hear.

"Remember, Natalie's no expert," Victoire said in an attempt to remind her of what exactly they were dealing with here—a sixteen-year-old girl with little experience and a deck of cards.

"Does is say what happens?" Whit asked quietly.

Natalie flipped the next card, frowning a little. "You'll get closure and realize your instincts weren't leading you off course." She pointed to the card in question. "This mainly signifies change. Something big will change for you. A new beginning is on the horizon."

What little of a good mood Whit had been in moments before had vanished just like that. With a lost look in her eyes and a frown on her face, she stood and walked away without another word; back to where she had been sitting before.

"What did I say?" Natalie said, looking back down at her cards.

Victoire watched Whit go, but frowned herself once the realization hit her that something really troubling was obviously bothering her best friend. Worse yet, she wouldn't even talk about it. How was she supposed to help Whit if she refused to open up? Why did she always have to be so guarded?

"Okay," Natalie said, smiling at Victoire. "Your turn."

Victoire nodded absently, still watching Whit where she sat. She wanted to go and talk to her, but at the same time, what good would it do if she was refusing to acknowledge what was bothering her?

Natalie shuffled and flipped over the first card. "Now…you've been experiencing quite a bit of good fortune lately," she said, examining the card before flipping the next. "Though, there's confusion around you."

"Is there?" Victoire asked, looking back at the cards for herself.

Natalie nodded. "See this," she pointed to the card. "It's uncertainty and confusion, though," she flipped another card, "this says that you've got great strength to persevere through it. You're a strong person."

Victoire smiled and glanced at Sarah, who was smiling too. "Persevering is always good."

"It is," Natalie said in a distracted manner as she flipped the final card and stared at it. "But, according to this, I _think_ you're also in for some unpleasant news." She looked across the table at Sarah and pointed at the card. "Wait, do you remember if this mean pleasant or unpleasant?"

Sarah shrugged as if she didn't know.

"I can't remember…" Natalie said slowly. "It's probably important to know which it is."

"I'd say so," Victoire said bluntly. She stared back down at the card, wondering if the key to whether or not she was in store for good or bad news was written on that card. Then again, she had to remind herself, why did she care? This was Natalie. What did she know?

With a dull sigh, Victoire looked away and across the library at nothing in particular. What was she doing buying into this all of a sudden? It was ridiculous. There was no bad news coming her way and no one could really predict the future. That's all there was to it. Divination was a stupid subject.


	17. An Endless Queue

A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews!! :) Some of these theories are pretty great... ;)

* * *

Standing over a boiling cauldron in the lab at St. Mungo's, Ted dropped several drops of leech juice inside of the pewter vessel and watched as the bluish hue of his potion suddenly turned deep purple. It hissed a satisfying sort of sound that told Ted he was doing something right. Ted would never admit this to anyone, but that noise was secretly one of his favorite sounds to hear.

"Hey, sign this," said Nate, who appeared next to him at the cook station and held out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"What is it?" Ted asked, not looking up from his potion.

"Nothing special. You're just signing away your life and possessions to me."

"Well, if it's to you…" Ted mumbled, taking the quill Nate had offered and jotting his name down. "But what is it really?"

"Just some paperwork for Russia," he said before he turned back across the room. "I think it was supposed to have been done a week ago, but I don't know. Hazel usually did it all." His expression grew frustrated. "Being is charge of this project is a real pain in the arse, you know that?"

"That's why I'm glad it's you and not me," Ted said with a tired smirk, though the immediate thought of Russia quickly forced the smirk off of his face. Just having been reminded of what was in store for him in the coming weeks put him in an instant shit mood. In the span of a week since he'd found out, he'd gone from anticipating the following weeks with explosive fervor to absolutely dreading them with every fiber of his being. His anger had given way to annoyance, which had eventually given away to acceptance. Now, he was left simply with dread. He knew that if he wanted to keep his job, there was nothing he could do. He had to go to Russia, he had to present his dragon pox findings, and he had to talk to Healers about what they were discovering. He had to suck it up.

He had a feeling that things would be easier to deal with if he knew how Victoire was planning on taking the news. He'd written her, just that morning, to finally tell her about everything after he'd waited a week on the blind hope that perhaps, just maybe, something would happen and the trip would get canceled. Every possible scenario—from the Russians canceling for personal reasons, to dragon pox being cured—Ted had hoped for, but of course nothing had changed. They were still going to Russia; signing that paper Nate had just offered him had all but solidified that.

He could only hope that Victoire wouldn't be _too _mad. She would be mad, and upset, and probably a multitude of other emotions that he wouldn't want her to experience on account of him, but he just hoped she understood where he was coming from. This wasn't his choice, after all.

As it were, he didn't even want to know what her next letter would say. For the first time since she'd left, he was actually glad that they had the distance between them. He wouldn't have wanted to deliver this face to face.

"We leave on the twenty-first," Nate said suddenly, ticking off on some sort of calendar with his wand across the room. "Then we're there on the twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-fourth, we're off Christmas, of course. Then home on the twenty-sixth."

"Don't remind me," Ted said as he stirred his Sleeping Draught with the silver ladle in his hand.

"You know," Nate said, swiveling around in his chair towards Ted. "You didn't bitch and moan this much last year when you found out."

"Actually, last year I just lit my hair on fire when I found out," said Ted. "So, I consider this progression."

Nate laughed loudly. "Shit, I'd almost forgotten all about that."

"Glad someone did," Ted muttered before he reached up and absently touched his hair, as though to check if it was still there.

"Trust me, Lupin," Nate said heavily, "I feel the same way you do. My mum lives alone and doesn't have any family besides me. How do you think I feel leaving on Christmas three times in a row?"

"I'm not saying it's just me, I just think the timing is shit."

"No arguments here," Nate mumbled, turning back around towards his desk. "Especially since we actually get Christmas day off, and then all we end up doing on the twenty-sixth is attend that stupid lecture that never tells us anything we haven't heard in the first three days we were there. I've never understood why we couldn't just leave on Christmas Eve. Everything relevant that we need to do is done by Christmas Eve, but nooooo. They make us stay until…"

Nate continued ranting, but Ted was now only half listening. He now was busy contemplating something Nate had just said. He was absolutely right. Last year, everything important had been finished by Christmas Eve. It had almost seemed like a complete waste of time to stay for an extra two days, one of which was Christmas. That lecture on the twenty-sixth hadn't contained any new information; it had been rather pointless. Why did they have to stay for two extra days?

"Why do we have to stay for two extra days?" Ted interrupted, reiterating his final thought out loud.

Nate stared at him, his mouth still in the shape of an "O" from whatever it was he'd been saying before he'd been cut off. "I don't know. Talk to the boss. Herbertson sets the dates. We just schedule and follow them."

"But you said yourself those other two days are pointless," Ted said, setting his ladle down. "We both know they are."

"I know that, but it doesn't change anything."

Ted screwed his face up in though and silently stared at Nate, losing himself in the question of why they had to stay those extra two days. Neither spoke for a long moment; long enough that Nate fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair after Ted still hadn't removed his gaze.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Nate asked finally.

"Do you think we could come back early?" he asked.

"And how in the hell do you plan on working that out?"

Ted shrugged. "I'm just asking if you think we could. Do you think it would set anyone off if we skipped out on the lecture on the twenty-sixth and instead came home on Christmas Eve?"

Nate's face remained doubtful, but he at least took a moment to humor him by thinking about it. "I don't think the Russians would care, but there's no way…"

"Would you want to come home?" Ted asked, growing more and more intrigued by the idea.

"Of course I would, but again, what can we do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you plan on getting us back? We can't Apparate all the way home from Russia."

Ted made an obvious face. "Portkey."

"Oh, yeah?" Nate said, his laugh condescending. "Are you going to make an illegal one, then? Because last I heard, to get a legit one on Christmas Eve you had to makes plans _last_ Christmas. And I'm sure as hell not getting fined by the Ministry for making a dodgy one."

Ted immediately thought of Simon; of everything he'd been telling him about people lining up for months in advance to make their holiday travel plans. Nate was right, but Simon had to have some pull. He had to have some sort of ability to make this work. Ted would be indebted to him if he could work it out so that that they could make it home on Christmas Eve. After all, at the very least, what did it hurt to ask?

"I know someone," Ted said slowly, "one of my mates. He works for the Department of Magical Transportation. I could ask him."

"I have a feeling that the Minister of Magic couldn't get a Portkey on Christmas Eve," Nate said with a defeated sigh.

"But if I can work this out," Ted said, "does that mean we can go home on Christmas Eve?"

"_If_ you can work this out," Nate said skeptically, "then we _might_ be able to arrange something. Though, if you ask me, if all of this hinges on whether or not we can get a Portkey home, I have a feeling we'll be having Christmas pudding in Moscow."

Ted smiled a little. He'd never been the type that got what he wanted just because he desired it, but in this case, he was going to exhume every possible resource he had to make this happen. Even if it meant he had to tap into the one person that he hated bothering for these sorts of favors. But, when desperate times call for desperate measures, being Harry Potter's godson had to have some advantages.

* * *

Stepping off the lifts onto the second-floor of the Ministry of Magic, Ted narrowly dodged several memos that had come flying by his head. Three people, all of whom looked as if they were in a desperate hurry to get where they needed to be, came pummeling past him to catch the lift while it remained open. He only just barely got out of their way by squishing himself up against the wall, but threw them all contemptuous looks over his shoulder as he walked further onto the floor.

He knew he must have walked this very walk a hundred times—down the main hallway, take a left, and then all the way to the end—to where the Auror's office sat taking up much of the floor. Just beyond the office's main entrance sat another office; one that Ted was all too familiar with considering Harry had been residing in it for the last ten years.

As he turned that very corner and approached the department in question, he came face to face with an elderly witch who was sitting behind a desk and busying herself with some paperwork. He didn't recognize her at all, which only meant one of two things. Either Eleanor—the Auror Department's regular secretary—had retired, or she was on holiday. This was unfortunate. Things were always much more difficult when Eleanor wasn't here. She knew him by face and never hesitated to let him pass straight back into Harry's office. A new lady meant he had to go through the entire introductory procedure all over again.

"May I help you?" asked the new secretary, as if on cue, once he approached her desk.

Ted smiled politely. "Hi. Is Harry in?"

She gave him a curious stare. "You mean Mr. Potter?"

He nodded, immediately wishing Eleanor was here. "Yes. Sorry."

"Do you have an appointment?"

He shook his head. "My name's Ted. I was just stopping by to say hello. He'll know me."

"Will he?"

"Uh, yeah." Ted nodded. "He's sort of my godfather."

She continued to stare at him strangely, as though she'd heard better excuses than that one before. Regardless, she held up a finger to signal for one moment before she stood and made her way back to Harry's office. About fifteen seconds passed before she reappeared again, beckoning for him to go on ahead.

"Thank you," he said politely as he passed her halfway on his way to Harry's office.

Harry was behind his desk as he entered, and was now closing a book that he looked to have been flipping through before the interruption. He looked up straight away, grinning immediately.

"Teddy. How's it going?"

Ted smiled and shrugged before he went and threw himself into the chair across from his desk. "Same as always."

"I wish I was the same as always," Harry muttered as he took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We've got some men running around up north torturing Muggles for sport. Crutacious Curse. Twelve reports since yesterday. I've got five of my best men and women on it and they can't seem to catch the guy."

"That's got to be frustrating," Ted said.

"It's why you made the right choice with going into the Healing field," said Harry with a lazy smile. He threw his book off to the side. "So, what are you up to? What brings you here?"

Ted forced an optimistic smile. "I'm going to go and see what I can do to get a Portkey home from Russia early."

"Yeah? How early?"

"Christmas Eve."

Harry stared at him. "Have you seen the Portkey Request queue? It's stemming off the sixth-floor, down the stairwell, and wrapping itself around the fourth-floor." He pointed outside of his office. "I'm counting on it hitting here any day now."

"I figured," said Ted, his smile faltering ever so slightly. "I'm sort of going on blind hope here. Simon works up there, so I'm hoping he can pull a few strings for me."

Harry let out a low whistle. "Good luck with that."

"Well," Ted said, mustering his full optimistic smile once again, "that's sort of why I'm here. If Simon can't, I was wondering whether you…"

Harry laughed a little once he seemed to realize where this was going. That laugh did not instill a sense of confidence into Ted. "You wouldn't believe how little influence I actually have with things like that."

Ted's face fell completely. "Seriously?"

"With bureaucratic stuff like Portkey scheduling, the magical system they use doesn't recognize me from the next person. You'd have to get an override from the Head of the Department."

"Who, I'm sure, you know," Ted encouraged.

"Oh, I do know her," Harry said, his eyes growing a little wide with recognition. "Marietta Edgecombe." His eyes stayed wide. "You'd probably have more luck trying with Simon. Long story short, Edgecombe doesn't like me much. Something happened back at Hogwarts when we were kids."

"Voldemort supporter?"

He shook his head. "No. Nothing like that. She was just a…" He made a face.

"A bitch?"

"That I won't argue."

Ted laughed a little, but his laughter quickly subsided into a heavy sigh. "Well, damn. I was actually hoping it would be that easy. I should know better given my luck."

"Sorry," said Harry. "But," he gestured to around his office, "if you need a dark wizard caught, I'm your man." He stopped and frowned a little. "Unless they're in the north country at this very moment…"

Ted grinned before stood up. "I'm sure you'll get him." He sighed and let his eyes fall to the carpet. "Well, thanks anyway, Harry. It was worth a shot."

"Always is," he said. "But good luck up there." He pointed up. "You'll need it."

"Tell me about it," Ted muttered before he took two backwards steps towards the door. "I'll swing by the house later this week."

"Sounds good," Harry said, his hand reaching across his desk for a quill. "Lily will be excited to hear it."

Ted placed his hand on the doorknob. "Speaking of the kids, have you heard from the boys lately?"

"We just got a letters from them a couple of days ago," Harry said with a quick smile. "They're good. James is acting exactly as you think he'd be. He hates Potions because he says the professor has it out for him," he laughed, "which sounds oddly familiar. His Professor has apparently given him three detentions this year for talking too much, but that's to be expected."

Ted smiled. "With James it always is."

"Then Al loves school," Harry continued. "Loves Defense Against the Dark Arts, just like his brother. Loves Herbology because he claims Professor Longbottom is 'nice.'"

Ted laughed.

"Apparently, that's all it takes," Harry said fondly. "Oh, but you'll appreciate this. He's gone and joined the Gobstones Club."

"Yeah?" Ted asked excitedly. "Good on him. I knew I'd get through to one of them."

"He has," Harry said with a nod. "And I'm fairly convinced that he and James wrote their letters together, because James was making fun of Al for joining Gobstones Club in his letter, whereas Al was suddenly defending himself in his. At the same time, Al is making fun of James for some girl who apparently fancies him, only for James to deny it in his letter. It was as if the two of them were having a conversation with each other through their letters, and had I not had both in my hand, I don't think I would have been able to tell what either was saying." He laughed. "Though, I'm pretty sure that they're both doing well."

"Glad to hear it," Ted said as he rested himself against the doorframe.

"How's Victoire?"

He exhaled slowly. "Good the last time I checked. Then again, I only just wrote her this morning to tell her about Russia, so now she probably now want to hex me."

Harry smirked. "I'm sure."

"But I'm off to see if I can fix that right now," Ted said before he turned and pulled the door open. He threw Harry a quick wave. "See you later."

Harry wished him goodbye before Ted stepped back into the brightly lit corridor of the main office. As he passed the elderly secretary, he smiled once again as he immediately headed back towards the lifts to make his way upstairs.

Once on the sixth-floor, he hadn't taken two steps off the lift before he came face to face with a frazzled looking witch who appeared to be multi-tasking several things at once. She was standing directly in front of the lift door with her wand raised, and was ticking off item after item on a clipboard in her hand.

"Portkey queue starts that way," she said without looking at him. She had merely pointed to her left, where a long line formed down the corridor, wrapping itself around a corner and out of sight. Most of the people in the queue looked aggravated and grouchy; one woman in particular was yelling something at the witch directly in front of him, but she didn't seem to recognize this. Either that or she was just ignoring her.

"Wow," Ted said, more to himself than anyone else. "You all are busy."

The witch looked up at him; a dry smile crossed her mouth. "Yes, sir," she said, sounding as though she'd never heard a more obvious comment ever made. She pointed again. "Queue starts down there."

"Right," he said. "Um, I'm actually here to see someone."

"You're not looking for a Portkey?"

Well, he was, but not my regular means. He shook his head.

She pointed behind her to a glass door. "Well, you can go through there, then." She narrowed her eyes on him. "But if you're just making that up, and for some reason you think getting in there will help you cut the queue, you're sorely mistaken."

Ted shook his head again and forced a tepid smile as he took a step around her towards the glass door she had indicated. He cast one last look down at the winding queue before he entered behind the large door to the main office.

Inside, things were far less chaotic; the only exception being a large counter at the far end of a small corridor, which connected the room Ted was standing in to another adjacent room. It was in that room that the front of the queue ceased, and those waiting in line finally met with a representative from the Transportation Office. At that moment, a small man was arguing about an arrival time with an exhausted looking female employee. The poor woman seemed utterly lost; she looked as though she wished she was anywhere else in the world.

Ted looked away and instead focused on the small front office that he was standing in. Several large posters showcased people on broomsticks, while another advised of the errors and consequences of illegal Portkey creation. A third poster—of why you should never Apparate while under the influence—stared Ted directly in the face. There were brochures on all the same subjects—as well as 'Effective ways to minimize your Magical Travel Experience'—spread across a display rack against the wall. The only other objects in the room were a large potted plant, several chairs, and a desk that happened to have a young woman with bright purple hair sitting behind it. She looked surprised to see Ted standing there.

"Are you looking for Portkeys?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Though, if I was, I don't think they're very hard to find." He gestured down the corridor, where the small man was still yelling at the poor girl behind the counter.

The girl forced a watered down smile. Like everyone else in the office that he'd met, she didn't seem to be in the best of moods. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm actually looking for a friend of mine," he said, noticing an open door just behind her desk that he could only assume led to the rest of the office. "Simon Reed."

"I don't think he's in right now," she said without missing a beat.

"Do you know where he is?"

She turned in her chair and pulled a clipboard off of the wall behind her. She scanned it before glancing back at him. "He's giving Apparition lessons at Hogwarts today."

"Do you know when he'll be back?"

She shook her head. "He probably won't be back before the end of the day. They tend to take awhile."

Ted reached up to rub his eyes. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. Yet another obstacle telling him that this was not going to happen in favor of a way he wanted it to. Harry couldn't help him, Simon was missing in action, and he was going to end up stuck in Russia when he didn't have to be celebrating Christmas with Nate and Durrin. Fantastic…

"All right," Ted muttered. "Thanks anyway."

"Do you want to leave him a message?" she asked.

He shook his head and turned to leave. "No. But thanks."

She smiled politely before Ted exited back through the glass door and out into the noisy corridor once again. There, the witch from before was pointing yet another group of people towards the end of the queue, while another woman—one who hadn't been there before—stood idly by taking several stacks of parchment from the first woman's clipboard. When the new woman turned to walk back towards the office Ted had just exited from, he found himself face to face with a very familiar—and very welcomed—face.

"Susan," he said immediately, smiling at the sight of her. Of course she worked here. How had he forgotten that? "Hi."

She looked up at the sound of her name. "Ted." She grinned. "Hi. What you doing here?"

"I came to see Simon," he said, pointing behind him and back towards the glass door. "I needed a favor, but he's not here."

"He's giving Apparition lessons," she said as she struggled to pass the large stack of papers she was holding from one arm to the other. "You just missed him. He only left about an hour ago."

"Yeah, that's what I heard," he said slowly. "Which is shit because I was really was hoping he could help me out."

"What'd you need?" she asked, taking a few steps towards the glass door. "Maybe I can help."

"Yeah, maybe," he said, watching as Susan beckoned for him to follow. "Though, I'd feel bad asking you. It's a big favor."

"Well, let me just drop these off and then we can talk," she said, looking down at the stack in her hands before struggling to free an arm to open the door.

Ted immediately jumped ahead of her to open it for her.

"Thank you," she said, entering the front room. "But anyway, don't feel bad asking me. How bad can it be?"

"Hopefully, not too bad," Ted mumbled, following after her as she walked towards the door that sat behind the secretary's desk. He watched as Susan gestured to the purple-haired woman, as if to say 'he's with me' before turning to push the door open with her back.

"Do you need some help?" Ted asked, gesturing to the heavy looking stack in her hands.

"Oh, they're not that heavy"

"Yeah, I know, but since you're pregnant—"

"I'm pregnant, not disabled," Susan quipped with a quick smile. "But thanks."

"Right." He smiled sheepishly. "Obviously."

"Nice to see you can be a gentleman, though," she joked as she continued walking through the busy room that was filled with people working and tending to, what Ted assumed, were transportation related events. He followed her over to a cluttered desk, where she dropped her stack papers down and sighed. She looked the stack up and down; a frown appeared the longer she stared at it. "I have to go through all of those and I'm not looking forward to it."

"Looks like fun," Ted joked.

"Lots," she muttered before she looked back at him. "Anyway, what's up?"

"Okay," Ted said, lowering his voice, as if he was doing something wrong. He half expected to be thrown off the premises if the words _I need a Portkey_ escaped his lips. "I already know this is asking a lot. Trust me, I understand."

Susan stared at him. "What is, Ted? Just spit it out."

He cast a suspicious look around the crowded office and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "I need a Portkey."

She lowered her voice as well. "Well, since this is the Portkey office, you've come to the right place. Why are we whispering, though?"

"I don't know," he said, still whispering. "Portkey almost seems like a four-letter word around here."

She smiled a little. "Only holiday Portkeys are four-letter words. Now, if you needed one of those, then you'd have to whisper."

"That's why I'm whispering."

She stared at him, her eyes growing larger the longer she looked at him. "Wait. You need a Portkey for the holidays?"

He nodded tentatively.

"These upcoming holidays?"

He nodded again.

"You're joking."

He shook his head. "I told you this was asking a lot."

Susan gaped and ran a hand through her dark hair as she turned and walked over to her desk. She plopped down hard in her chair, but continued to stare at Ted. "What days? Where are you going?"

"Well, I'd only need one for the way back," Ted said, leaning against the edge of her desk. "I'm leaving for Russia on the twenty-first and I've got one back for the twenty-sixth, but I'm hoping to get home sooner."

"Sooner when?"

"Christmas Eve."

"Christmas Eve!?' she said, her voice rising slightly. "Oh, now you've really got to be kidding."

He frowned.

"Christmas Eve and Christmas day were booked up months ago," she said, pointing to where the queue outside would have been. "As it is now, the earliest people can get a Portkey back is December 27th." She shook her head. "My boss has to personally approve any schedule switching or moves for those days."

"I just didn't know if there some sort of string you guys could pull. I know, it's next to impossible, but I though I should ask. I missed Christmas last year, and this year I've got Victoire in the picture and we've both been waiting months to see each other only for it to be cut in half thanks to work." He looked away. "It would just be really nice if could make it home early."

She sighed, her face growing sympathetic. "I don't know what to tell you, Ted. I wish I did, but I really think it's fairly impossible to work this out." She paused. "I mean, I could try to see what I could do…"

"I would seriously be indebted to you," Ted said quickly. "If you could just try, I will buy your kid all sorts of fantastic present when he or she is born. You name it. I'll do it."

She slowly smiled. "If I somehow work this out, then you better have an outstanding baby-sitting offer ready for whenever Simon and I need you."

"I could do that," Ted said immediately. "I could definitely do that."

"You'd do all of that so you can get home two days earlier?"

Ted thought of being home on Christmas—of being with everyone he cared about, of being with Victoire… "Yeah, I would."

She cracked a smile and nodded. "Well, I can't make any promises," she said honestly. "All I can do is claim that I'll try. Simon would tell you the same thing. It's beyond our control, but maybe something will come up."

"I would seriously owe you," he smiled. "Honestly. If either of you can do this, I owe you a huge favor."

Susan glanced towards where the Portkey line would have been through the wall and inhaled very slowly. "You can say that again…"


	18. Whit's Admission

"Miss Weasley?"

Victoire looked up from the doodle she'd been drawing on her Ancient Runes notes. Professor Tate was staring at her over her glasses and now pointing to the blackboard behind her.

"The answer to question forty-three?" Tate added.

Victoire quickly pulled her lesson towards her and scanned her sheet for question forty-three. She had made the mistake of tuning her professor out around question twenty-seven, which had been about fifteen minutes ago. She couldn't exactly help it. Tate's voice was entirely too monotonous. It could put anyone to sleep.

Tate sighed and tapped at the board with her wand. Immediately, several Runes symbols appeared. "Given the inscription on the Minoan temple in Crete, what year did ancient wizards developing harvesting spells?"

"Um," Victoire said in an attempt to stall and buy herself some time. "I...." She read the runes right off the board. A Hydra, a Runespoor, a Demiguise, and a Griphorn. She took into account that Greek wizards wrote their numbers backwards and reversed the last two numbers of a year if they were odd. "2093 B.C?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Tate asked.

Victoire double checked. She was fairly positive that she was correct, but she could never be quite sure when put on the spot like this. "Telling."

Tate stared at her, looking as if she had expected her to get that wrong. She nodded quickly. "That is correct. Does everyone see how she came to that answer?"

A girl on the far side of the room, Cassandra Holmes raised her hand. "I don't."

Tate began reiterating the concepts of the Greek wizards' and their number reversals while the class jotted notes as she spoke. Victoire made a point to watch her professor for an extra moment; just long enough to where she knew she was no longer a target of Tate's to catch off guard. Once she felt Tate had moved on, she returned to the doodle she's be drawing before.

On any normal day, she would be using this boring down time to write notes to people, but as it were, that didn't even seem like a viable option. Whit was still acting oddly reclusive and testy; refusing to talk to anyone about what was clearly bothering her, which had been going on for over a week and a half now. Then Ted—who was almost always the first person Victoire thought of writing to when she had a moment—she had nothing to say to him.

Well, that was only half true. While she didn't have much to share in terms of new and exciting school news, she did have a few choice things to tell him concerning his last letter—the letter she had received days earlier telling her that he was going to Russia. Work was once again sending him, right as she was due home for the holidays. He wouldn't be there when she got back, and he wouldn't be home until days after. In fact, he'd only be home just in time for them to, perhaps, see each other for a couple of days before she headed back to school. Their week and a half together had been cut down to just under a week. Needless to say, she hadn't been exactly thrilled by this.

She had read the letter he'd sent four times; each time, expecting the words, "just joking" to pop out at her suddenly, as if it was all some funny prank. But each time, the words remained the same. He was going to Russia. He was "_really sorry_." He wouldn't go if he had his way. He didn't want to go. He, again, was "_really sorry_."

Just like that, just with a few words, she had felt as if a world of disappointment had come crashing down on her. She had been under the impression that she was excited to see him again, but it wasn't until their time together was suddenly halved that she realized how badly she was looking forward it. It almost felt as if someone had told her Christmas was canceled, which, as far as she was concerned, it all but was.

Then there was the fact that she wanted to blame Ted, just because having a source for the blame seemed logical, but she knew that it wasn't his fault. Obviously, if he had his way, he wouldn't be going...not that it stopped her from feeling as though he deserved some of the blame. It was _his_ job after all. He could have worked anywhere…

"Did you expect him to quit?" Dominique had asked Victoire days earlier as they walked towards the Great Hall together.

"No," Victoire had told her. "Of course I don't, but…" She sighed. "I don't know."

Victoire wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but somewhere along the way—with Whit acting so distant and Sarah acting, as Dominique claimed, "odd"—Dominique had turned into Victoire's new source of bouncing thoughts off of. It was an utterly different experience from having Whit to talk to in that Dominique never tried to sugarcoat things for her. Everything was straight, blunt, and to the point. She also didn't seem to understand the difference between blowing off steam and truly complaining about something, which aggravated Victoire to no end. More than ever, Victoire wished Whit and her diplomatic nature weren't off in hiding.

"Ted's got a life that doesn't always involve you," Dominique had said once they reached the Great Hall.

"I know that," Victoire snapped. "I'm allowed to be a little upset, Nicki. I just found out this morning that he's leaving."

"And there's nothing you can do." Dominique shrugged as she hovered outside of the Great Hall's entrance. "I mean, boo hoo, you're missing a handful of days. Be thankful you get to see him at all."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

Dominique smiled. "You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me," she pointed behind her, "I have an Apparition lesson I need to get to."

"You do that," Victoire said dryly, turning to walk back upstairs. She suddenly couldn't remember why she had even bothered to walk all the way down here with her sister. Had she really expected her to offer some sort of reassuring advice? Dominique and reassurance was like oil and water. They just didn't go together.

She had taken maybe ten steps back towards the Grand Staircase when Dominique's voice echoed through the corridor once again. "Hey, Vic, come back."

She stopped and turned around. Had Dominique thought of yet another overly obvious way to make her feel like shit for being upset that she didn't get to see her boyfriend when she was supposed to? Because, if she had, she really didn't feel like listening to it right now.

"Come back," Dominique said again, waving her back towards where she was standing. "Guess who's here?"

Victoire shrugged and filled the gap between them. "Who?"

"Look," she said, pointing inside the Great Hall, where the house tables were all pushed to one side. Several of the sixth-years from various houses were standing around the wide open space; talking amongst themselves and waiting for their Apparition lesson to begin. Victoire scanned the faces, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

She looked back at her sister. "Who am I looking for?"

Dominique took her hands and positioned them on the sides of Victoire's head, turning her neck towards the front of the room for her. It was there that a round face, broad-shouldered, blonde man stood leaning against the staff table, checking off a list of parchment.

Victoire's face immediately lit up. "It's Simon!" She smiled at Dominique before glancing around the rest of the room to see if there were any professors inside. She knew that unless you were signed up for lessons, you really had no place being in the Great Hall at the moment, but the coast was clear. She entered and headed immediately over to where Simon was still absently checking over his list. She slid into the spot next to him at the table, getting close on purpose to surprise him.

He reacted just as she suspected he would by jolting up at the sudden and unexpected invasion of his personal space. It took him a moment to realize just what was going on, though a smile crossed his face when he did finally did recognize her.

"Hi, Simon," Victoire said brightly.

"Jeez, Vicki, I thought you were a ghost or something." He sat back down next to her.

She shook her head. "Just trying to surprise you. What are you doing here?"

"I'm the one giving the lesson," he said, pointing to all the kids in front of him. "Teaching the three Ds."

"Destination, Determination, and Deliberation," Victoire said matter-of-factly.

"You actually remember that?" He laughed. "I was convinced that was the first thing people forgot."

"I've got a good memory."

"Guess so," he said before he gestured around the room. "But what are you doing here? You've already got your license."

"I saw you sitting in here, so I thought I'd come and say hi," she said, glancing at all the faces in front of him. "How are you? How's Susan?"

"She's doing well," he said fondly. "Still pregnant."

Victoire smiled. "I heard you got engaged. Congratulations."

"I did, thanks." He grinned at her. "So, you know, you've officially missed the boat now. You and I are a thing of the past."

"I guess we are," Victoire laughed, taking another quick look around the room to make sure there were still no professors there. "I heard you set a date for the wedding."

"We did. New Year's Eve. Susan's damned and determined to do it then. She's got her heart set on it."

"That's the day after my birthday."

"Oh, yeah?"

She nodded.

"Ted's been keeping you up to date, then?"

Victoire nodded, but frowned a little before she looked away. "Let's not speak his name at the moment."

"Why?" Simon asked, his face growing a little concerned. "Something happen?"

"Russia happened."

"Ohhh…" he said slowly. "Right. I forgot. That's shitty. Ted's really aggravated about that."

She looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"You really think he's not?"

She looked away and down towards the stone floor beneath her feet. "I don't know. I'm still processing everything. I was just really looking forward to seeing him."

Simon shrugged sympathetically. "He really does feel like shit about it."

"That just makes me feel worse," she said sadly, though at that exact moment, the door to the Great Hall opened once again and in walked Professors Flitwick and Longbottom.

Victoire immediately rounded back on Simon. "I'm not supposed to be here." She hugged him quickly. "Good to see you though, and tell Susan I said hi." She paused for a second. "And tell Ted that I miss him, and that I can't wait to see him…whenever that may be." She smiled. "He should know that already, though."

Simon had grinned, just as Victoire made her escape before Professor Longbottom could ask her what she was doing there. It had actually been really nice to see Simon, considering that she almost forgot what the world outside of Hogwarts was like this time of year. She knew it was there, waiting for her to rejoin it, but even with all the letters from Ted and her family, it sometimes took seeing a familiar face to remind her of all the things waiting for her back at home…or in the case of Ted, waiting for her at home five days after the fact.

"For your homework," Tate announced suddenly, reminding Victoire that she was still sitting in her Runes class, "translate questions seventy-nine through one hundred and sixty."

The class let out a low groan.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Tate said sarcastically. "And here I thought you were all seventh-years who wanted to be prepared for your N.E.W.T.?" She made a tutting noise before carrying on. "Once you've written your assignment down, you may be excused for the day."

Victoire hastily scribbled her assignment down underneath all the other work she had accumulated for that weekend: a two foot essay in Transfiguration, a three foot essay in Potions, and a detailed plant dissection diagram she had to draw for Herbology. The only subject she hadn't gotten work in was Charms. Professor Flitwick had been feeling especially spirited about this weekend's Quidditch match between Ravenclaw—his house—and Gryffindor, and had decided to cancel any work he had been planning to assign.

Victoire could only hope that the other professors were feeling as equally spirited, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Even Professor Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor, who had gotten an earful from his Herbology class after they explained what Flitwick had done, seemed unconvinced. As he explained, work can't always stop for Quidditch.

"There goes any sort of weekend I was planning," mumbled Alex Wood from the seat in front of Victoire. She couldn't help but echo that sentiment. As she stood and collected her things to leave, she realized that she may not even have enough time to sleep this weekend. It was as if everything was just going from bad to worse.

Upon hustling out of class and making her way towards the staircase, she trekked back up to Gryffindor Tower and immediately dumped her things off in her dorm room before going back to the common room. Given that Tate had excused her class early, the rest of the common room was relatively quiet, what with everyone still off in their last classes of the day. Only a few of the sixth and seventh-years—who had a free period—sat milling about the room.

Victoire looked around for someone to sit with, and immediately noticed Louis and Jack off at a table at the side of the room working on something out of a textbook together. On other side of the room, she saw Natalie and Sarah sitting together as well, though they were chatting and laughing rather than doing anything relevant to school. Given the two sets of scenarios, she chose to join the girls over the boys.

"Hi," Victoire said pleasantly, smiling at both girls as she sat in a vacant chair across from the pair.

They both smiled.

"I hope you were both clever enough _not_ to take five classes at N.E.W.T. level," Victoire mumbled. "I swear, I'm killing myself."

"I've only got three," Natalie said, looking at Victoire as if she was mad for doing five.

"I'm doing five," Sarah said. "Which I thought was bad until I found out your brother is doing six."

That's practically a death wish," said Natalie.

Sarah laughed a little. "Isn't it? He was saying the other day that he may drop one, though."

"Did he?" Victoire asked, smiling slightly at the idea of Sarah even mentioning Louis. Given that they were still as tight lipped about their situation as ever, she found it rather cute when one let something slip about the other.

"Louis's really clever," Natalie said, looking across the room towards where he would have been sitting. Her faced turned pensive before she smiled a little. "Like, he's one of the cleverest boys in our year. Probably the best looking, too. Sometimes I wonder how I could have ever been so stupid to end things…" She trailed off and smiled some more. "He's pretty perfect."

Sarah said nothing, but her expression had turned awkward.

"Trust me," said Victoire, sensing the weirdness that had just arisen. "He's not perfect. Not by any mean. He's stubborn. He snores soooo loudly. He takes the longest showers in the universe. He bites his nails down to nothing, and he'll always take the last of something and never replace it. He can be a real smartarse and he--"

Natalie laughed. "You say that because you're his sister!"

"You're better off," Victoire added in an attempt to get Louis out of Natalie's mind entirely. "Trust me. It's better this way. You really shouldn't look back. Move forward and all that. No point dwelling on the past."

Natalie shrugged, though Sarah was now smiling a little.

Victoire smiled, too. Secret or no secret, she liked Sarah. She was starting to really grow fond of the idea of Sarah and her brother being together and she wasn't looking for other people to jeopardize that.

"Are you going down to the match this weekend?" Sarah asked Victoire, looking as if she was more than ready to change the subject.

"I want to," she said as the portrait hole swung open and in entered groups and groups of students who were returning from their last lesson of the day. "I don't know if I'll be able to make it, but I want to."

"Why wouldn't you be able to make it?" Natalie asked.

"I've got so much homework this weekend," Victoire mumbled as she turned to watch people pile in one by one before scattering around the room for a place to sit and stretch out. "I don't even know how I'll get through it as it is, let alone if I go watch Quidditch. Plus, it's not as if it'll be a good match. Ravenclaw isn't even supposed to be good this year."

"Nicki said they're better than people think," said Sarah. "I guess she's been watching some of their practices."

Victoire made a face. "She complains about people spying on Gryffindor if someone so much as looks at the pitch when their practicing, but she's been watching other teams?" She rolled her eyes. "That's not hypocritical."

"Yeah, but this is Dominique we're talking about," Natalie said offhandedly, just as Victoire saw Whit enter through the portrait hole and start towards their dorm.

Victoire immediately sat up and waved her arms in the air to catch her attention, but when she had managed to catch Whit's eye, Whit only mustered a weak wave before she continued on her way towards the stairs.

"She's still acting strange?" Sarah asked.

Victoire looked back at her and nodded. "I have no idea what's going on. I mean, something is clearly wrong, but she won't say anything. I feel like I'm starting to annoy her with all the asking I've been doing."

"I wonder what it is," said Natalie.

"I wish I knew," Victoire said. "Whether it's something at home, or here at school, or something with Jack—"

"My vote is Jack," Natalie said, gesturing towards the table where he was still sitting with Louis. They were now joined by Kenley Mortimer from the Quidditch team, who looked like she was showing Jack something to do with her broom.

"Why do you say that?" Victoire asked as she watched him.

"I just always think it's the bloke's fault," Natalie offered. "I don't have any proof."

"They have been sort of distant lately," Sarah said as she stared across to where both boys were smiling at something Kenley was showing off. "I mean, I've just been spending a lot of time around Jack lately because of…" she paused threw Victoire an obvious look, which Victoire took to mean 'because of Louis,' "but I've only seen him and Whit talk a handful of times in the last few days."

Victoire continued to watch Jack from across the room. He and Louis both were examining something on Kenley's broom thoroughly; Kenley was pointing to something on the handle and laughing in a flirty and somewhat obnoxious sort of way. It was something that Victoire had to assume was for Louis's benefit given that that was how girls tended to laugh around him these days.

She looked away from that display and focused instead simply on Jack. She, like Sarah, had noticed that Whit and he had seemed sort of distant lately, but she had assumed that was because Whit had seemed distant from everyone lately—even her. It was hard to be close to Whit when she seemed to be consciously pushing everyone away.

Still, even with taking all of that information into account, something had to be said for what Victoire had witnessed moments before when Whit had walked into the common room. She hadn't even so much as looked in Jack's direction. In turn, Jack hadn't even made an attempt to flag her down or get her attention as Victoire had. For all the resisting and pushing away that Whit was doing, it wasn't as if Victoire had given up on trying to reach out to her; yet Jack was barely paying attention. That had to be somewhat telling...

"What is she doing?" asked Natalie suddenly.

Victoire turned to Natalie and saw she was now staring in Louis and Jack's direction. Her face was aggravated, which was an expression Sarah happened to be sharing. Victoire glanced back to the boys and saw Louis laughing about something having to do with Kenley's broom. She was smiling at him.

"She's just a flirt," Victoire offered, looking at Sarah specifically. "I wouldn't think he really wants—"

"He's got a girlfriend," Sarah said callously.

Victoire gaped at her. "He does?" she asked, attempting to sound innocuous. Had Sarah actually admitted their relationship? Just like that? And in front of Natalie of all people?

Both Natalie and Sarah looked at Victoire strangely, before Natalie added. "Obviously he does."

"I…" Victoire stammered, still staring at Sarah. "I didn't…"

"Jack," Sarah added almost immediately. "We're talking about Jack."

"Of course we're talking about Jack," Natalie said as she pointed towards him. "Kenley is trying to flirt up a storm up with him. She doesn't even care that everyone can see her doing it."

Victoire's head snapped towards them again. She had been under the impression that Kenley had been flirting with her brother, though, upon closer inspection, Louis did just seem to be just acting friendly. He also seemed to have already grown tired of the broom conversation and had returned to whatever it was he'd been working on before. However, Kenley was still standing there; smiling and laughing at whatever Jack was saying.

She made a face. She liked to think she knew Jack fairly well; as well as she did know him, she knew for a fact that he wasn't funny enough to cause that much laughter. Someone laughing that much at what he was saying had something else entirely in mind.

"I thought she was flirting with Louis," she muttered.

"No, definitely Jack," Natalie said. "I mean, she's laying it on so thick that I'm sure some of it is bound to rebound onto Louis, but it's Jack she's aiming for."

Victoire's eyes narrowed. "He's got a girlfriend…"

Sarah and Natalie both looked at her curiously again, but Victoire couldn't help it that she'd just now found herself properly joining their conversation and discovering what this was all really about. Something inside of her now felt hot. She didn't know if Kenley had other intentions, or really was just a flirty little twit, but blind loyalty to her best friend suddenly made her want to go over there and smack Kenley on her pretty little head.

"You three look excited," said Dominique's voice as the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor followed. Victoire only turned away momentarily from the display across the room to notice her sister dropping her Quidditch supplies onto the ground.

"You might know, Nicki," said Sarah. "Does Kenley have her eye on Jack? Do you ever see anything at practice?"

Dominique made a face and glanced across the room. "That Jack?"

"No, the _other_ Jack," Victoire said sarcastically. "Of course that Jack."

She shrugged. "She flirts with him, but I've always brushed that off to her being a hopeless flirt. She flirts with everyone."

"But like _that_?" Sarah asked, pointing across the room to where Kenley was still all smiles and giggles.

"So what?" Dominique said. "Let her flirt with him. Jack's a good guy. As long as she's only making the effort to stroke his ego and not _other_ things, then who cares? Does Whit care?"

"If she does," said Victoire, "she not saying anything. And she wouldn't say anything even if she did."

Dominique stared across the room, her face growing concerned. "How do you know she's not over there working on Louis?"

"Because watch the way she looks at Jack," Victoire whispered harshly, growing more and more annoyed the longer she watched. "Louis's not even paying attention to her."

Sarah cracked a smile.

"Well," said Dominique, "I'll say something to Kenley, then."

Victoire cocked her eyebrow. "Like what?"

She shrugged. "I'll tell her to go and find a guy who's not taken to twitter around like a flighty idiot. If she's got some sort of motive like you think she does, I'll have it out with her and tell her to piss off and have some self-respect. Whit is my friend, after all."

"You have to tell me what happens if you say something to her," Natalie said.

Dominique reached down to pick her Quidditch bag back up. "Sure. Whatever. Though, I probably won't do it tonight because we've got a match on Sunday and we can't afford the drama. But I'll keep an eye on her at practice." She smiled. "If I see anything, I'll try to get a hold of a Beater's bat."

"Why doesn't Whit say something to her?" Natalie asked. "Or at least tell Jack to stop humoring her. That would drive me mad if it were my boyfriend."

"Whit wouldn't confront anyone about anything," Victoire said in a concerned tone. "She'd just try to wish it away." She turned and looked to the stairway that led up to the girls' dormitory. "Maybe, it's about time she stops wishing..."

"Are you purposely trying to sound cryptic and mental?" Dominique asked

Victoire didn't answer her. Without another word, she stood and headed straight towards her room. For all she knew, this entire mess with Jack was completely unrelated and there still was another underlying issue present that she wasn't aware of. Though, it had to be said that the timing of it all was just a little too convenient for it to be a coincidence. If this wasn't the reason Whit was moody lately, it certainly had to be adding to it.

Victoire pushed open her bedroom door and found Whit reading behind the half drawn curtains of her four-poster bed. Whit looked up at her the second she entered, but said nothing. She just stared at her.

"We need to talk," Victoire said resolutely, leaving little to no doubt that she was not going to be pushed away this go around.

Whit blinked.

Victoire walked over to her own bed and hopped up so that she was facing Whit head on. She frowned. "First of all, why are you upstairs?"

"Because it's loud downstairs and I have a headache."

She stared at her. Whit was never going to come out with the truth. If she wanted to get this out of her, she was going to have to all but trick her to get her talking. "Are you going to the match this weekend?"

She shook her head immediately.

"Why not?"

"I have a lot of work to do," she said obviously, "and you do too. You know I don't care enough about Quidditch."

"Yes, but you've never gone to the matches because you care about Quidditch. You go because you care about Jack."

Whit looked away and back down at her book, her body language instantly tense. _Bingo_, Victoire thought. If just his name triggered that kind of reaction from her, then there was definitely something more there.

"What's going on with you and Jack?" she asked.

"Why do you think—?"

"Because you two have barely talked lately," she interrupted, "and when you do, it's for five minutes. Then there's the fact that you have no desire to go to his Quidditch match when in the past you've always at least pretended to care."

"We've both been busy, so I haven't seen him much—"

"He's sitting downstairs right now," Victoire said. "You're upstairs, he's downstairs, and you're still claiming you never get the time to see him because you're busy."

She bit her lip.

"I know for a fact he's not busy right now," Victoire said, realizing that she was going to have to take a few harsh steps to get Whit to finally admit how she was feeling. "You know why?"

She stared at her.

"Because Kenley Mortimer is all but throwing herself at him and he's just happily chit-chatting with her," she said slowly. "She's down there flirting with your boyfriend, while you're up here avoiding him."

Whit suddenly sniffled, her eyes clouding with tears. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe.

"What is going on, Whit?" Victoire asked as she stood up and walked over to sit on the edge of Whit's bed. "And you can't say nothing because you're sitting here about to cry. _Something_ is wrong."

"I don't know," she said with another sniffle. "I don't know, I don't know." She shook her head. "Everything is different lately."

"Everything?"

"With Jack," she said immediately. "The way we are together, the way I feel, the way he feels…" She trailed off. "Everything is different. It doesn't even feel the same."

"How does it feel?"

"I don't know," she said as a tear plopped down her face. "Not good."

"Not good?"

"I mean, it started feeling different a few months ago," Whit said, her face turning a little red the more worked up she got. "Things were a little weird before I left for that holiday in the Bahamas. It worried me because I knew things would only be weirder when I got back. Then, just like I thought, things were weirder. I just felt like we were growing apart. I didn't know what I was doing wrong."

"Why do you think it was you doing something wrong—?"

"I just wanted things to go back to normal," she continued, ignoring Victoire. "For us to be as close as we used to be. It's even why I…" She stopped and suddenly looked away. She seemed embarrassed. "It's why I had sex with him."

Victoire stared at her.

"I had thought that maybe if we did, it would fix things," Whit said as she grew more and more upset the longer she talked. "I thought it would help, but—"

"It didn't?"

"It did for a while," she added quickly, as if that point needed to be stressed. "For about a month afterwards, we were great again. It was nice. It was like it used to be."

"But now it's not?"

She shook her head and more tears plopped down her face. "I don't know if it's me, or it's him, but things are just so different. Even when we get together, things just seem forced. Like, he wants to be somewhere else."

Victoire stared at her, unsure of what exactly to say. "Have you talked to him?"

"Yeah," she said through a sniffle. "Or, I've tried, but he denies it. He says he has no idea what I'm talking about when I tell him he seems distant, and that I'm the one pulling away."

"Well," Victoire said, feeling the need to play devil's advocate, "from what I can tell, you've been avoiding him."

"I can't help it," she said loudly, working herself up more. "When I'm with him, I feel like he wants to be other places, so I try to keep that from happening."

"So you avoid him?" Victoire asked. "I don't think that's going to help—"

"I know that!" Whit snapped in a moment of sudden aggression. In the following second, she was back to sniffling and looking fragile. "I know that, but I don't know what else to do."

Victoire folded her hands in her lap and glanced down at Whit's bedspread. Well, this certainly explained Whit's foul mood the last couple of weeks. She was upset and confused about her relationship; she was angry and blaming herself for what looked liked a simple case of two people growing apart. If this had been going on for months without improvement, then perhaps the solution was an obvious one. Maybe Whit just needed to hear someone say it…

"Have you thought about breaking up with him?" Victoire finally said.

Whit started to cry harder.

"I mean, Whit, if things aren't the same, and you can't even be with him without worrying about whether or not he wants to be with you, then maybe…"

"It scares me to think things are over," she said feebly. "I don't want it to be over."

Victoire nodded. "I know. You two have been together for awhile now. He was a lot of firsts for you, but that's the thing. He's the first. Not the last."

Whit let herself fall back onto her mattress and buried her face under her pillow; her sobs became suddenly muffled. Victoire reached out and started rubbing her back supportively.

"You have to ask yourself if this is fixable," Victoire said quietly. "If it is, fight for it. If it's not," she stopped and sighed, "you have to move on. Whit, you've been an entirely different person lately. You can't let this take over your life."

"But I care about him," she said into her pillow.

Victoire smiled sadly. "Sometimes it takes more than that."

"I can't break up with him," she said as she lifted her head up. "I just can't do it. I wouldn't be able to."

Victoire picked her legs up off the floor and tucked them under her. "So, are you just hoping things get bad enough that he'll be the one to do it? That way you don't have to?"

She didn't say anything. She just merely sniffled.

"Why give him that power?"

"I don't think it's giving him power," she said weakly.

Victoire pursed her lips. She could only wonder—if the situation was reversed—if Whit would let her get away with an answer like that. Whit always seemed so confident when she was giving advice, and yet, so reluctant to accept it for herself. Why did it always seem so much easier to give advice rather than follow it?

"I still want to be with him," Whit said suddenly, "as long as he wants to be with me. But if I break up with him—"

"You're sounding mental," Victoire interrupted. "You want to be with him, so until _he_ decides to end things, that must mean _he_ still wants to be with you? You're willing to just let him make all the decisions concerning _your_ relationship? That's crap."

"I'm just really confused," Whit said. "I know I sound like an idiot, but this sort of thing isn't always rational. You told me that once."

"Yes, but there's no need to be going completely off the deep end," Victoire mumbled.

"Of course it's easy to be on the outside looking in!" Whit said, her voice rising. "Don't even pretend that you make the best decisions when your heart is telling you one thing, but your head is telling you another!"

Victoire quickly looked away. It was a fair enough argument. She certainly wasn't the model for making rational and well-thought decisions when she was emotional about something. Still, Whit had to realize that if she and Jack were growing apart, they needed to cut their losses and move on. It wasn't fair to either of them to keep a relationship going just for the sake of not wanting to hurt someone or lose what was familiar. It was possible to simply grow apart without meaning to. It happened everyday.

"Whit, you need to do what makes you happy," Victoire said. "You shouldn't have to avoid your boyfriend or worry about what he's thinking when what's clear is what _you're _thinking. You need to talk to Jack. You two either need to work this out or get out."

"It's hard," she said. "He denies—"

"Then don't let him deny it," Victoire blurted out. "Tell him how you feel and if he can't deal with that, then—"

"He always so busy with Quidditch…"

"He's downstairs right now," Victoire said, gesturing towards the door. "Go talk to him right now. Let's go tell Kenley Mortimer she can piss off and you can sort things out with him."

Whit sniffled again and sat up. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks red, though suddenly, her expression grew hard. "I hate Kenley Mortimer."

Victoire stared at her. Where had that come from?

"I hate her," she repeated as her tone became collected and cold; the sniffling suddenly gone. "I've seen the way she's been acting towards him since Quidditch started. She's always asking him for help with her flying or to stay late to help fix something on her broom. You don't even want to know how many times I've thought…" She stopped and took a deep breath.

"Jack wouldn't cheat on you," Victoire said, once again feeling like she knew Jack well enough to know that much.

"I know he wouldn't, but," she shook her head, "that's not what I was going to say."

"What were you going to say?"

"I think he's got feelings for her."

Victoire's jaw dropped. "Okay, what? You think your boyfriend has feelings for someone else and you're avoiding him instead of contemplating how you need to break up with him?"

"I don't know for sure," Whit added hastily, "I've just thought about it a couple times. I mean, she's pretty and she loves Quidditch and," she looked away, "why wouldn't he?"

"Because he has a girlfriend!" Victoire said bluntly. "A fantastic girlfriend! And if he doesn't know it, then I'll go downstairs and kick some sense into him."

"Jack hasn't done anything," Whit said heavily. "He hasn't said anything to me. I told you this is just what I think."

"Okay," Victoire said as she stood up. "This is ridiculous. It's not fair to you, or to Jack, for you to just sit here and get worked up over things that you don't even know are true. You need to go downstairs and talk to him and find out exactly what he's thinking." She pointed towards the door. "Now."

"I can't do it now," she said, gesturing to her face. "I'm a mess and my head is throbbing. I can't…" She looked away and towards the clock on her bedside stand. "Plus, he's probably at Quidditch practice now since they have a match this weekend." She made a face. "I hate Quidditch."

"He can spare ten minutes," Victoire said as she continued pointing towards the door. "If he can't, then Gryffindor doesn't have a shot anyway."

Whit closed her eyes. Her breathing heavy and her expression looking as if there was nothing in the world she'd rather not do than go downstairs and talk to Jack.

Victoire reached out her arm to her and stood there with her hand outstretched for over a minute, waiting until Whit finally opened her eyes. She looked at Victoire's outstretched arm.

"You'll walk down there with me?" she asked.

Victoire nodded.

Whit nodded too before running nervous hand through her hair and letting Victoire pull her up off the bed. "Just let me wash my face," she said, standing and walking towards the door before turning towards the lavatory.

Victoire watched her until she disappeared. That turn to the lavatory was a good sign. If she had gone the opposite direction and ran for the stairs, Victoire was afraid she was going to have to chase after her.

Now alone, she shook her head and rubbed her eyes. What was happening? She had known Whit and Jack were a little distant, but potentially breaking up? Where had this come from? And why did Whit have to sit on this for so long until she practically exploded? That wasn't healthy. Victoire couldn't even feel slighted by the fact that Whit hadn't come to talk to her sooner about things because it seemed Jack was further in the dark than she had been.

"Are you ready?" Whit asked begrudgingly, reappearing in the doorway and grabbing at her cloak that hung on a nearby door hanger.

"Ready as you are," Victoire said with a smile.


	19. An Icy Night

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Things are getting busy (both in the story and for me!) but I'm doing my best to update when I can :)

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Both Victoire and Whit walked downstairs to the common room, though only Victoire had actively begun to search for Jack. He was no longer sitting where he had been before, and in his place, Sarah now sat talking to Louis. Victoire gave the room another once over, but didn't see him anywhere.

"He's at Quidditch," Whit said. "I told you that."

"Let's check and be sure," Victoire said, taking steps towards Louis's direction and stopping right beside his table. She knelt down next to his chair. "Hey, Lou."

"Hey," he said, still laughing at something Sarah had just said before turning to her. He glanced from Victoire to Whit, and his face slowly fell. "What's wrong?"

"Whit, are you okay?" Sarah asked, now sounding concerned.

"Where's Jack?" Victoire asked.

Louis's eyes continued to travel between Victoire and Whit, his expression growing more and more concerned the longer he stared at the latter of the two. "Quidditch practice. He just left about ten minutes ago. Did he do something?"

Victoire ignored him and looked at Whit. "You were right."

"It not hard to be right when the answer is always Quidditch practice," said Whit.

"What's going on?" Louis asked again. "Why are you upset?"

Whit looked away. "I'm not upset."

"You look like you've been bawling."

"Mind your own business, Lou," Victoire said before turning away from him. The second she had though, she realized that Louis may actually be useful at the moment. Being Jack's best friend, he may know things that others wouldn't. Then again, even if he did, he may not say anything. Still, it wasn't as if she anything to lose by asking. She turned back to him. "Lou, can I talk to you for a second. Privately?"

He shrugged and stood up.

Whit was now looking at Victoire as if to ask, _"What are you doing?"_ but Victoire held up a finger to signal that she had this under control. Without hesitating or waiting for Whit to protest, she followed after her brother to a more private corner of the common room.

"Why is she upset?" Louis asked once they were out of earshot.

"It's something to do with Jack."

"What?" he asked as his eyes focused on her. "Because if he did something, he has no idea he's done it."

"He's had to have said _something_ to you about the way things between he and Whit are these days," Victoire said sharply. "I'd like to know what that is."

Louis looked at her as if she had a second head. "Sorry?"

"What's Jack said to you about him and Whit lately?"

"I don't know," Louis mumbled, his tone growing strange. "That things have been shitty, is all. She's being distant and he doesn't know what to do." He stopped. "That's all we really talk about. Why? Is she planning on splitting up with him?"

"She's really confused about things," she said. "She doesn't know what's going on."

"Neither does Jack," he said defensively. "He's not to blame."

"Neither is Whit—" she said as she began to match his defenses, but quickly stopped to shake her head. This wasn't helping. "Regardless, she needs to talk to him."

He shrugged as if he agreed with that, but said nothing else.

Victoire looked over her shoulder and back at Whit, who, along with Sarah, was still watching them. She had another question suddenly pop into her head, but she wasn't sure she should ask only because she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Lou," she said, deciding to push forward, "what's Jack's opinion of Kenley?"

Louis made a face, as if he was surprised by the question. "I don't know. She flies well?"

"That's it?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She's just awfully flirty with him."

Louis took a step away. "Vic, we're not talking about this…"

"We are, actually," she said as she eyed her brother. "How about you just be honest with me?"

"How about we just don't talk about it?" he suggested.

"So, he has said something?" she said obviously. "You wouldn't act like this if he hadn't."

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" he said, suddenly sounding annoyed. "You know, even if he has, it's not like it means anything. Jack hasn't done anything wrong."

"I didn't say he did," she said slowly. "I just want to know what he's said, if anything. I think his girlfriend has a right to know."

"If you really think— I mean, Vic, blokes talk sometimes. It doesn't mean anything. Hell, you're in love with Ted, but that's not going to stop you from having reactions to other guys. It doesn't mean anything…" He paused. "Unless you act on it. And, I repeat, Jack hasn't done anything."

Victoire stared at him, now studying his face as if it was some sort of map that held all the answers. "Look, I just want to know what he's said. If it's a passing comment like, 'I think she's pretty,' then fine, whatever. That's not a big deal. But if it's something more along the lines of, 'I have feelings for her,' then Whit has a right to know."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Way to make something out of nothing, Vic."

"If it's nothing, then just tell me."

"No," he said with a smug expression.

She glared at him. It was times like this where dealing with Louis became more aggravating than dealing Dominique. His usual carefree, laid-back nature disappeared and the smug, stubborn arse made himself apparent. However, having fought with Dominique enough like this over the years, Victoire liked to think she had an upper hand that Louis didn't. She knew how to corner him. It wouldn't be pretty, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If she had to be a bitch, then so be it.

"If you don't tell me," she said slowly, making her face cold. "I'm walking down to the Quidditch pitch and telling Nicki that you've been lying to her about you and Sarah for over a month now."

He gawked at her. "You are not. You wouldn't do that to Sarah."

"You want to risk that?"

He clenched his jaw, not looking the slightest bit amused. "That's really bitchy, Vic. Really fucking bitchy."

She stared at him. "Don't think I enjoy this. I just think Whit has a right to know if her boyfriend is falling for someone else."

He continued to glare at her. It was now he who was studying her face, but after a quick moment, a sense of calm appeared over his features. He cleared his throat. "You know what? If you go tell Nic, then I'm just going to turn around and tell Mum and Dad that you lied to them about Ted."

Just like that, Victoire's expression had gone from cold to crestfallen in a matter of seconds. Instead of cornering him, he had cornered her right back. It seemed that being a manipulative bitch really wasn't something she was inherently good at it. Or maybe Louis was just better prepared with how to deal with it than she expected. After all, he had as much experience dealing with this sort of behavior through Dominique as she had. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise that he knew how to counter it, too.

"It doesn't feel good to have something like that thrown in your face, does it?" Louis asked, watching her.

"No," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I know."

"I wasn't going to really do it," she said slowly. "Tell Nicki, I mean."

"Then why say it?"

"The same reason you said you'd tell Mum and Dad about me and Ted," she said obviously. "It was a last resort."

Louis nodded and looked away. "Jack hasn't done anything wrong."

"You do understand that if he's fallen for someone else while he's with another girl, that's wrong?"

Louis rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, I understand that. And I repeat," he looked Victoire in the eyes, "Jack. Hasn't. Done. Anything. Wrong."

"So, you're saying he hasn't fallen for her?"

"Not that he's told me," he said, standing up straight, "but maybe he's just not telling me. Who knows? But, can I give you my honest opinion about something?"

She nodded.

"He does like Kenley as a person. She's sweet, she's fun, she likes a lot of the same stuff he does." He paused and glanced over at Whit. "He has no idea where Whit's head is lately. He barely sees her, and when he does, he says things are strange between them. I don't know what's going on there, but I can see—and again, this is just my opinion—that if things stay as shitty as they are for much longer, he probably could fall for Kenley…or someone like her. I wouldn't be surprised if that happened."

Victoire pursed her lips. "You wouldn't?"

He shook his head. "You can't help the way you feel. Sometimes you fall for people when you don't intend to." He threw her an obvious look. "You can't control it."

"I know," she said, immediately thinking of Ted, "but if you're with someone else—"

"And sometimes," he interrupted before she could get going, "you can't control when you don't feel the same way about someone anymore. It goes both ways."

"Does Jack not feel the same way anymore?"

Louis shrugged. "You'd need to ask Jack that." He looked over his shoulder, where Whit and Sarah continued to curiously watch their entire display. "Or actually, Whit needs to ask Jack that. Why isn't she over here asking me these questions? Why are you doing it?"

"Because you're my brother and I have no qualms asking you. Can you really see Whit over here browbeating you like I am?"

"Maybe she should be," Louis suggested. "Because it seems to me that she's all but just given up. And if I get that impression, I can only wonder what Jack's thinking."

Victoire stared at him long and hard. She couldn't help but agree with him on some level, as much as it pained her to do so. "Thanks, Lou. Sorry for threatening you."

He grinned and shrugged. "Just do me a favor and let Nicki be the bitch from now on. She's much better at it than you are, and I can't deal with two of you."

Victoire smiled guiltily, just as Louis took the first few steps back over to where Sarah and Whit were standing. As soon Whit noticed Louis returning, she immediately made a beeline towards Victoire.

"What happened?" Whit asked. "It looked heated for a minute there."

Victoire looked at her. She felt torn between a strong desire to hug her or shake her silly. Instead, she merely shook her head. "You need to talk to Jack. We need to go downstairs."

"Did Louis say something to you?"

"Nothing that you didn't already know," Victoire said matter-of-factly, adjusting her cloak and bracing herself for what she knew would be an icy December evening. "We can talk on the way down there. You ready?"

Whit nodded hesitantly, but glanced over her shoulder to where Louis and Sarah were talking. The instant Sarah caught Whit's eye, she nodded and held up a finger to signal for one second. In the next moment, she was dashing up towards the girls' dormitory.

"Sarah said she'd come, too," Whit said, turning back to Victoire. "I asked her. I guess I just needed some extra moral support."

Victoire smiled.

Sarah reappeared minutes later with her cloak wrapped around her and looking more than ready to go. She smiled at Louis, who waved goodbye to her before throwing his sister a funny look. His looked like her was wondering what exactly they were planning to do, but he didn't say anything. Victoire shrugged before turning to face the other girls. With no further distractions, Sarah led the way out of the portrait hole; Victoire and Whit followed behind and into the corridor.

"I don't even know what to say when I get there," Whit said once it was just the three of them. "He'll probably be mad that I'm interrupting practice."

"Does Jack get mad?" Sarah asked, pushing her hair out of her face. "In the six years I've know him, I've never seen him mad except on the Quidditch field."

"He doesn't get abrasive or loud," Whit said, "but he broods. He won't tell you he's mad. You just know he is. It's frustrating sometimes."

"Gee, who does that sound like?" Victoire muttered.

Whit looked at her.

"Yes," she added. "I am talking about you."

"Sorry," Whit said as they made their way down the first flight of stairs.

Victoire shrugged. "I just wish you'd realize you can talk to me about this sort of stuff. What good are friends if you can't trust them to understand you and help you through things? I mean, is there a reason you didn't think you could talk to me?"

She shook her head. "I guess I just felt like if I talked about it, then I'd have to admit that it was really happening."

"Just because you don't want to talk about it, doesn't mean things aren't really happening. You're going to drive yourself insane keeping everything in like that. Talk is good, you know."

"It wasn't you, Vic," Whit said. "Like I said, even I didn't want to admit there was a real problem. If I couldn't admit it, then how was I supposed to admit it to anyone else?"

"You two are making me feel bad," Sarah said suddenly.

They both looked at her.

"You're both saying how terrible it is to keep things from your friends, and here I am keeping this huge secret from my best friend. I don't even have a good excuse."

"You sort of do," Victoire said, realizing where Sarah was going with this. "Dominique's a hothead. She's intimidating."

"Yeah, but she's going to find out about me and Louis eventually," Sarah said, her tone filled with concern. "It's been over a month now, what am I waiting for?"

"What are you waiting for?" Victoire asked.

Sarah didn't answer her, but instead grew quiet as they reached the bottom of the Grand Staircase and stepped into the entrance hall. No one said anything until they reached the large double doors of the castle's entrance and pushed them open. The second they were hit by and icy burst of winter air, both Sarah and Whit backtracked.

"It's freezing," Whit said immediately.

"Then you'll have to make this quick so we don't freeze to death," Victoire said, grinning as she held the door open for them to pass. Sarah plucked up the courage first and stepped out into the dusky, cold evening where the sun was setting just off in the distance. It made the sky look orange and gray at the same time.

Victoire stepped through next, looking back at Whit and waiting for her to follow. She hadn't seemed tentative on the way down through the castle, but now that they were outside—and the Quidditch pitch was just several hundred yards away—she seemed nervous.

"You're just going to talk to him," Victoire encouraged. "This isn't a big deal. And for all you know, this conversation may solve all of your problems. You both may realize something that could make your relationship work again and then, just like that, everything's fixed."

Whit slowly smiled at her. "Yeah." She took a step out into the chilly air and heaved a triumphant sigh. "This is no big deal."

"Not at all," Sarah agreed. "It's just Jack."

"Right," Whit said with a nod before she looked at Victoire. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked as they walked down the front steps and off the main courtyard into the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

"For being a better friend than I am," she said. "And for making me do this and not letting me give up."

"I'm not a better friend," Victoire muttered as the wind whipped up her hair and blew it in front of her face. "Honestly, Whit, I don't even know what I would have done last year had you not been there for me after what happened with Stuart and then made me realize how I felt about Ted. You're just going through a rough patch. Now I'm here to help you this go around."

She smiled. "I still feel like a terrible friend."

"Well, I'm secretly dating my best friend's brother," Sarah said bluntly, "and she still doesn't know about it. So by default, that makes me a worse friend than you."

"It does not," Victoire said, rolling her eyes. "I'm telling you, Nicki will get over things." She turned to Whit. "And you have not been a terrible friend. It's not like anything exciting has been going on anyway. In fact, the _only_ thing that's even happened to me lately is that I found out Ted's going back to Russia for the holidays when I'm supposed to be home, so—"

Whit froze in her tracks. "He's going to Russia again?"

Victoire stopped too, nodding slowly.

"He won't be around when you get home?"

"It's not a big deal," she lied.

"Yes, it is," Whit said. "You're lying. You were so excited to see him. You were keeping a calendar and crossing off the days."

"I'm still going to see him," she said distantly, kicking her shoe into the frozen earth as she did. "Just…not as soon as I'd like to. And not as long as I'd hoped for."

Whit frowned. "Vic…."

Victoire forced a sad smile onto her lips, though she actually found herself feeling strangely happy to have the old Whit back—the Whit who knew exactly when she was lying and always knew the right thing to say. But, this wasn't the time for Victoire to be the center of attention. This was Whit's moment. Victoire needed to support her right now, not the other way around.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Victoire said as they continued walking, growing closer and closer to the Quidditch pitch. "Do you know what you're going to say to Jack?"

"No idea," Whit said as she tightened her cloak around her.

"Louis said he's just as confused as you are," Victoire said as they approached the outside perimeter of the Quidditch pitch. "So, it's clear that there's just a lot of stuff you need to talk out."

Whit nodded, though she slowly started to lessen her stride to small, hesitant baby steps. When Victoire looked ahead towards the pitch ahead of them, she immediately suspected why this was.

"Is that them?" Sarah asked, pointing straight ahead to where a group of people were standing outside of the pitch, tossing a Quaffle around.

"Why would they be outside the pitch?" asked Victoire, squinting ahead to see if she could place anyone's face.

"No, wait, it's the Ravenclaw team," Sarah said, squinting as well. "I recognize Layla Hornberger with the red hair. Then there's Henry Davies and Griffin Giggleswick over there."

"Why is the Ravenclaw team out here now?" Victoire asked as they drew closer to where the team looked to be running drills that didn't require their brooms.

"Maybe they're getting in some extra practice time?" Sarah suggested, her voice now garnering the attention of several of the Ravenclaw players. A few of them had turned to look at the girls as they passed.

"Aren't you supposed to practice inside the pitch?" Victoire asked no one in particular.

"Gryffindor's got the pitch right now," answered Liam Brighton. "We get it next. We're warming up."

Whit shrugged, as if to say that made sense, but turned to look up ahead at the entrance way that led to the inside of the pitch. She took a deep breath.

"You can do this," Sarah encouraged.

"Come on, we'll walk inside with you," Victoire said, giving Whit's arm a squeeze. "Don't think too much about it and—"

"Hey, Victoire," called Liam's voice again.

She stopped momentarily and looked back at him.

"Do you really have a boyfriend or was your sister making that up?"

She glanced at Sarah and Whit before looking back at Liam. "She wasn't making that up."

"Oh," he said as two of his teammates suddenly laughed at him. "I was just checking."

"Okay, so wait," said Davies, who had stepped forward and was now glancing between Liam and Victoire. "Your sister's not making that up, but are _you_ making that up?"

Victoire eyebrow arched. She didn't even know what that was supposed to mean. She almost wanted to ask what they were on about, but Sarah interjected before she could speak.

"Henry," she muttered, "that doesn't even make sense. Do you ever make any sense?"

He made a face. "What's with the attitude, Sarah?"

"You just bring it out in me."

"I've never had a problem with you."

"You've had enough problems with Nicki for me not to care that we've never personally had a problem," she said quickly, throwing him a tired look before looking back at Whit and Victoire and ushering them into the entrance of the building. "Come on."

"You know, maybe you should talk to your friend," Davies called after her.

"Whatever, you say—" Sarah began, but she quickly shook her head as if she couldn't be bothered with it anymore. "He really doesn't make any sense, does he?"

"He never has," Victoire said as they walked through the entrance to the stadium and into a tunnel that led out to the pitch. "He's talking in riddles as far as I'm concerned—"

She stopped speaking when Whit took a few steps ahead of them towards the pitch entrance. Both Victoire and Sarah watched and waited to see exactly what she would do, but she simply stood there at the exit of the tunnel, staring up into the sky.

Victoire joined her after a moment, feeling curious as to what Whit was thinking. She glanced between her and the players flying around on their brooms up above. It only took Victoire a moment to spot Jack, hovering off to the side and watching everyone. His beater bat was lazily dangling from his hand.

"If we walk out there," Victoire suggested, pointing out to the pitch. "We can get someone's attention."

Whit nodded, but kept her eyes on the sky. Despite the nod of agreement, she didn't look as if she was planning on moving anytime soon. Victoire quickly looked back at Sarah for a suggestion, but she only shrugged.

"I think someone's landing," Whit said, just as someone on a broom came whizzing from the sky above and landed in the center of the pitch. It was girl, though not Dominique. Victoire knew that much. From this distance, she couldn't tell if it was Kenley or Martha considering they both had similar builds and hair.

"It's Kenley," Sarah said, answering the question that no one had asked, but was obviously upon them.

"Let's ask her to grab Jack," Victoire suggested.

Whit shot her a hard look.

"Poor choice of words," she said immediately, "I meant, let's ask her to go inform Jack of your presence."

"She's the last person I want to ask," Whit mumbled.

"She should be the first," Victoire said. "Let her know you're still very much in the picture."

Whit grimaced. "I don't—"

"Hey, Kenley!" Sarah yelled out suddenly, ducking back into the tunnel a moment later and out of sight. Before Kenley had turned to look, Victoire ducked and did the same—leaving it to seem as though Whit was the only person there who could have called her name.

Whit looked completely startled at the suddenness of what happened, but immediately straightened up as Kenley squinted across the pitch to see who it was standing there. She took a few steps forward; when she did recognize who it was, her face seemed to match the surprise in Whit's.

"Yes?" Kenley asked.

Victoire and Sarah exchanged looks from inside the tunnel. They could only just make out Kenley's face and Whit's back, but nothing more. Victoire only hoped Whit was giving her a nice hard glare at the moment.

"I need to talk to Jack," Whit said bluntly.

Kenley stared back at her. "He's sort of practicing."

Sarah rolled her eyes and whispered, "No, you think?"

"Yes, I see that," Whit said with a small laugh, which made Victoire wonder if she'd heard Sarah. "It's why I knew where to look for him."

"It's really not the best time," Kenley added.

Whit was silent for a minute, and Victoire had almost thought she'd lost her nerve. The longer the silence continued, the more Victoire felt the urge to step forward and tell Kenley where she could go. Luckily, Whit did finally speak.

"If that's the case, he can tell me that."

There was no immediate response from Kenley this time, but Victoire could see Whit look up at the sky. A moment later, she turned around and smiled nervously at Victoire. "She went to get him."

Victoire threw her a reassuring smile. "Keep it up. You're doing great."

"Remember, it's just Jack," Sarah added before she turned to Victoire. "Should we go now?"

"Not yet," Whit said instantly, looking at something just off to the side of the tunnel that Victoire couldn't see. "Just wait a second. Please? He's coming."

Victoire shrugged. She could at least give it until Jack and Whit started talking before they excused themselves.

"Hey," said Jack's familiar voice, though Victoire couldn't see him. Both she and Sarah's eyes went wide with recognition as they watched the back of Whit. "What are you doing out here?"

"Hey…" Whit said softly, looking anxiously back into the tunnel.

Both Victoire and Sarah silently urged her to press on. Victoire mouthed the words, "Talk to him."

"Um, I came out here because…" Whit began, "because we need to talk."

There was silence for a long moment. "Right now?" he asked.

Whit shrugged.

"Can it wait, maybe, twenty minutes?" he asked.

Victoire started shaking her head, assuming that Whit would probably look in her direction for some sort of guidance. However, Whit didn't; instead she pressed on. "Is twenty more minutes of practice really going to change any part of your game, Jack?"

"Maybe not, but in the same respect, is waiting twenty more minutes really going to change anything we have to talk about?" he asked.

"At this rate," she said frankly, "that's hard to say."

"What's going on?" said Dominique's voice from somewhere nearby, but again, Victoire couldn't see. "Hey, Whit. What are you doing here?"

Whit didn't acknowledge her, or at least Victoire couldn't tell if she did. She simply stood there staring off at something just beyond the entrance. An awkward silence had filled the air until Jack finally said, "Nicki, tell everyone we're done, would you?"

"What?" Dominique asked. "Wait, where are you going?"

Jack didn't answer, but Whit suddenly looked back into the tunnel and signaled for Victoire and Sarah to go. Without hesitating, Sarah turned and immediately dashed back towards the way they had entered. Victoire dawdled for a moment and threw Whit one last reassuring smile before turning away.

Emerging at the other end, both she and Sarah came face to face once again with the Ravenclaw team. They were still throwing their Quaffle around from person to person, though they stopped and looked up when Victoire and Sarah emerged.

"Did you lose someone?" Griffin Giggleswick asked. "Weren't there three of you before?"

"Gryffindor's done," Victoire said as she ignored his comment and gestured back towards the pitch. "Your lot can go in now."

"They're done early?" asked Liam Brighton, checking his watch before looking up at something that had obviously caught his attention just beyond Victoire. She turned as well, just in time to see Whit and Jack now exiting from where she and Sarah had just emerged. They turned to walk in the opposite direction.

"You done early, Ians?" Davies called after him.

Jack glanced at him, but didn't say anything.

"Oh, shit," said Liam with an amused smile. "Is his girlfriend angry or something?"

Davies's eyes focused as he watched Jack and Whit walk further and further away into the opposite direction. He slowly began to smile. "Did he seriously call his practice early because he's got chick problems?"

Several of the Ravenclaws laughed.

"Hey!" Griffin shouted after Jack and Whit. "Toss him! Break his heart so he can't play on Sunday! Ravenclaw thanks you in advance!"

Liam laughed. "That's a good one, Griff."

Victoire stared at each and every one of them contemptuously. How childish and sick could you really get?

"Nicki's right," she whispered to Sarah. "They are all arses."

Sarah nodded. "And now you see why she says what she says."

"Lay off," Davies said to his group. "If we want to be the best, we need to beat teams when they're at their best. Winning otherwise would be a cop out."

"Fuck that," said Griffin. "A win's a win. If Ians can be at a disadvantage, I'm all for it."

"Come on, Griff, that's bullshit," Davies said, grabbing his stuff to walk towards the pitch. "Anyway, I respect Ians enough as a player to know that even if he and his chick are having problems that he'd keep his head about him and not let it faze him during a match."

"She has a name," Victoire said, just as Davies passed her on his way inside. "She's not just 'his chick.'"

He stopped and stared at her strangely for a moment. He was either processing what she said or found her comment somewhat amusing. "Right, obviously."

"It's Jane," she added purposely.

"Nobody cares…" Griffin said in a sing-song tone, clearly mocking their conversation. Several of the other Ravenclaws laughed.

Victoire suddenly had the urge to pull a Dominique and kick a Ravenclaw player in the balls, but stopped when Dominique herself emerged from inside the pitch and looked around, settling her sights in their direction. Victoire had actually never been happier to see her. She hoped more than anything she put these little prats in their place like only she could.

"Griff, go fly forty laps," Davies said suddenly, gesturing to him and then to the stadium.

"What?!" Griffin yelled. "Are you fucking serious?"

"You want to do sixty?" Davies asked.

"You're joking."

"Eighty?"

Griffin gawked, but didn't say anything right away. Victoire could distinctly hear him mumble something under his breath as he passed her on his way into the stadium's entrance, though she was sure it wasn't anything pleasant. Several other members of his team followed after him, and for a moment, Liam Brighton caught Victoire's eye. When she met his gaze, she glared at him. He immediately continued walking.

"Aw, look at someone actually acting like a proper Captain," Dominique said as she appeared next her sister, her hands in the pocket of her cloak. "Finally realizing your team is filled with arseholes, Davies? They learn from the best, you know?" She gestured to him.

He rolled his eyes. "I need to talk to you."

She made a face. "Why?"

"Because I needed to talk to Ians, and he's off doing who the hell knows what with his girlfriend."

"Yeah, what was that about?" Dominique asked Victoire.

"I'll tell you later."

"Anyway," Davies said pointedly, looking as if he'd rather not have the conversation sidetracked, "I need to talk to someone from your team." He sighed. "And you'll have to do."

"You flatter me," Dominique muttered before she took a step back towards the pitch. "You've got two minutes to waste my time more than you already have."

"I only need one," he said, following after her.

Not surprising," she said as her voice became fainter the further she walked away. "I always pegged you as a minute man…"

They disappeared completely back into the stadium, and Victoire looked back at Sarah. Given that Whit was off with Jack and probably wouldn't be back for some time, it was probably best if they made their way back to the castle. It was freezing outside, and the fireplace in the common room was suddenly starting to sound awfully inviting.

"They'll probably be awhile," Sarah said, nodding in the direction of the where Jack and Whit had gone. "We should probably go back."

"You read my mind," Victoire said, watching as the steam rose from her breath.

"I think your sister will be out in a minute, though," Sarah said. "We should wait for her."

Victoire nodded and blew into her hands to keep them warm as they waited. One by one, they watched as the other members of the Gryffindor team exited the arena and headed back towards the castle. Victoire had counted five so far, but with Jack gone, that left only her sister to emerge. She seemed to be taking her time.

"Where is she?" Sarah asked after nearly five minutes had past. She was dancing around on the spot to keep warm.

"I don't know," Victoire said, "but I think I'm going to freeze to death. Leave it to Nicki to be the ultimate source of my demise."

Sarah grinned lazily, but didn't take her eyes off of the exit of the arena. "You don't think she went out another exit?"

"We still would have seen her," Victoire said, pointed up towards the castle. The rolling hills that lead the way revealed plenty of open space for someone to be spotted walking up.

"I'm going to go check," Sarah said as she tightened her cloak around her and set off at a trot towards the arena.

Victoire watched her go until she disappeared completely inside the building. Now on her own, she sighed and looked around as the vast empty space that surrounded her. The last bit of sunlight had disappeared by now and the only light left was coming from the lanterns attached to the perimeter of the Quidditch arena.

She had never been outside the castle on her own this late before, and the longer she stood there, the longer she realized why this was. There was a definite creepiness in the air made her feel uneasy. The trees were barren, there wasn't an animal in sight, and the earth was still and frozen. Along with the icy chill in the air, a strained and unsettling silence seemed to surround her. She hated the silence and wished—

A high pitched screeching sound came from somewhere within the nearby Forbidden Forest. She stumbled several steps back, immediately wishing that the silence would return. The silence was better than the screeching. She'd take the silence over the screeching _any day_.

She wrapped her arms around her and glanced back at the arena. "Come on, Nic," she said to herself. "Hurry up."

Even though she was hundreds of yards from the forest, Victoire continued to edge her way away from it as an added precautionary measure. She forced herself to think of something happy. For starters, not standing here; being at home; being at home in her warm bed; being at home in her warm bed with Ted...

She laughed a little at that last thought, just as the cold made her sniffle. That was exactly where she wanted to be right now—wrapped under the sheets, in Ted's arms, feeling the warmth of his body. Not standing here in the freezing cold with who knew what making those horrible noises just beyond the tree line.

The screeching noise returned; Victoire was seconds away from running back up to the castle with or without the others when a figure finally appeared from the entrance to the arena. Given that it was now dark out, she could only just make out that it was someone smaller and that they were jogging towards her. She pulled out her wand and mumbled, "_Lumos" _before pointing it in the person's direction.

"Sarah?" Victoire asked. "Is that you?"

"It's me," said Sarah's out-of-breath voice as the glow of the lantern's fire light bounced off her hair the closer she drew.

"Where's Nicki?" Victoire asked, looking behind Sarah to check and see that she hadn't followed her right out. "There's something out in the forest that sounds like it's mad, or hungry, or looking for a mate, I don't know. I do know that I don't want to stand around waiting to see which it is."

"Nicki's…" Sarah stopped and began laughing. "She's…" She laughed again, only much harder this time. She didn't seem to be able to get the words out.

"She's what?"

Sarah took a deep breath, but it quickly gave way to more laughter. "You're never going to believe this."


	20. CheckUps

Ted grimaced as the needle pinched his skin.

He would have thought that after doing this once a week for the last year or so, he'd be used to the feeling of a pointy metal syringe piercing through him. However, this wasn't the case. No matter how often it occurred or how used to it he thought he should be, he still hated the feeling of getting stuck just as much as he did the first time.

"And there were go," said Magda, one of the other lab workers, as she pulled the needle from his arm and immediately tapped her wand to the spot where blood was trickling out. Within seconds, the mark was gone, leaving only a small trace of blood to even indicate that he'd had been stabbed in the first place.

"Same time next week?" Ted joked.

Magda smiled and handed him a tissue to wipe his arm. "Always a pleasure."

"Maybe for you," he said as he cleaned up his arm and rolled his sleeve back down. "For me, it's not so much."

"You have to be used to it," she said, quickly examining the vial of blood she'd just drawn from him. She stood and walked across the lab, setting his blood down amongst several of the other potions and viral samples she had collected.

"Being used to it and enjoying it are two very different things," Ted mumbled, watching as she took her wand and, with one quick flick of her wrist, set up at least five sample to which she could begin experimenting his blood against.

This had been happening for over a year now, or at least as long as it had taken Ted to reveal to everyone that he was a Metamorphmagus. Ever since, he had become a bit of a research project for Magda. As it were, Metamorphmagi weren't exactly common; when they did come along, they mostly had no desire to be subjected to endless tests to see if their blood, genes, saliva, or any part of them truly held some sort of Healing secret. It had been rumored for ages that some sort of key may be held within the unique gene pattern that made a Metamorphmagus special, but thus far, nothing exceptionally relevant had yet been discovered. But that was before Ted had willingly signed up to make Healing research his profession. With a Metamorphmagus at arm's length, needless to say, it opened far more doors for experimentation.

"Oh!" Magda said suddenly, her dark, aged, raccoon-like eyes—due to wearing too much eye makeup—lighting up. "I took your suggestion!"

"You did?" Ted asked, watching her as she went about dropping drops of his blood into various small dishes. He'd forgotten what exactly it was that he'd advised her to do.

"I did," she said happily. "And yesterday, I had the most incredible reaction. I applied your blood to some werewolf gene samples several days ago. Then yesterday there was some gene restoration. It was slight, but it's definitely something to take note of."

"Yeah?" Ted asked, quickly remembering what it was she was talking about. He had made mention about a month ago that they should target more mutative genes—like the lycanthropy in werewolves—to see if any effect occurred when mixed with a Metamorphmagus sample.

It had been a hunch—a small one based on his own origins—that there may have been some sort of positive effect when the two were combined. It was a blind guess that he was basing purely on the fact that his own mother's Metamorphmagus genes had overpowered his father's werewolf genes when he was born; if they could somehow discover a correlation of sorts, then it was possible to hope to one day taper off the werewolf gene from being passed on hereditarily. Sure, it wasn't curing werewolfism—which Ted's considered the main goal of his career— but it was something in the right direction. Hearing Magda tell him that there was an actual reaction was pretty much the best news he could have heard.

Magda nodded enthusiastically. "It's something I think we should pay attention to, to be quite honest." She smiled at him. "But why the werewolf gene, though? Why'd you pick that one specifically?"

"I had a hunch it might react," Ted said.

"Where'd this hunch come from?"

He shrugged and looked absently down at the floor. He rarely told people about his dad's condition because a lot of people still had large hang-ups about werewolves…and those hang-ups tended to carry over onto their offspring. It didn't matter that Ted had never even so much as flinched when the full moon appeared at night, if people heard that he was the son of a werewolf, they automatically assumed they worst; they assumed he wasn't telling them something.

But Magda didn't seem like that type. She was trustworthy enough, not to mention older, wiser, and probably the least judgmental person in this hospital. Perhaps withholding this sort of information was actually inhibiting results? It could be hindering things. As far as Ted knew, he could have been hiding something vital.

"It was a hunch because," he began tentatively, "well, see, I'm the living breathing product of the genes being mixed." He watched her face to gauge her reaction. "So, I thought maybe—"

"Wait, how so?" she interrupted as she continued to drop more of his blood into dishes, watching closely to see if anything happened.

He took a deep breath. "My dad was a werewolf."

She stopped dropping blood and looked up at him.

"Yeah."

"A werewolf?"

He nodded.

"And your mum was the Metamorphmagus?"

He nodded again.

She put the eyedropper she'd be using down and adjusted the glasses on her face. "Just to be clear, your mother was a Metamorphmagus and your father was a werewolf. And you're a Metamorphmagus, but not a—?"

"No, I'm not a werewolf."

"You're sure?"

"I think I'd know."

"No, I meant, are you just telling me this to save face? People don't exactly wander around admitting to that, you know."

"I'm not a werewolf," he repeated. "I don't know what the cause was exactly, but my mum's genes seemed to win out over my dad's."

"Which you should be thankful for," she added quickly. "Because between the two options…" She stopped and stared at him, her expression turning quizzical. "You're a walking experiment, Ted."

He begrudged a weak smile. "Thank you?"

"No, really," she laughed. "That little piece of information could hold some serious keys. Think about it. Why did the Metamorphmagus gene overpower the werewolf gene? Was it a fluke, or would it do it again? Is that something we should be exploring right there?"

Ted shrugged. "That's what I'm hoping to find out. Unfortunately, I don't have any siblings to help me deduce whether I'm a coincidence or not."

Magda smiled. "Your parents really should have had more kids. You should have fought for some brothers or sisters."

"They never had the chance. They died when I was just a baby."

"Oh," she said, her smile disappearing. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"It's okay," he said quickly, forcing a smile. He was in no mood to be the center of a pity plea today. "You couldn't have known."

She looked a little discomfited for a moment, but returned to her eyedropper to contined what she'd been doing earlier. "Wow, how often are you going to find a werewolf and a Metamorphmagus who have a child together?"

"It happened once," Ted offered.

"Isn't this about the fifteenth secret to come out about you?" Magda asked, staring at him over the top of her glasses.

Ted considered that. "I don't know if I'd say fifteenth, but probably the third or fourth." He looked back towards the doorway to check if anyone was there. "This one though, I really am partial to keeping under wraps."

"Werewolf prejudice is still occurring daily," she said sadly.

"Yeah, it's definitely that," Ted agreed. "But it's also because people suddenly believe I am one when they hear it. I mean, I can't blame them because, honestly, how many times have you heard the werewolf gene hasn't been passed on hereditarily between a full blown host and their offspring?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't name an occasion."

"Exactly," he said. "And I've already got enough weird, 'look at me, look at me! I'm so different from everyone else' stuff going on as it is."

"You know," she said, staring intently at her sample dish as she dropped some blood onto it, "for someone who self-proclaims himself as being 'so different,' you sure do have it a lot easier than the other people with strange traits and quirks. I'd like to think being a Metamorphmagus is probably at the top of things I'd want to be if I had the choice."

Ted shrugged. "There are worse things, I guess."

"You don't guess," Magda said obviously. "You know."

Ted shrugged again, just as the door to the lab suddenly opened and shut behind him. Both she and Ted turned to see who had entered, and they were both greeted by the sight of Hazel strolling across the lab in her street clothes.

"Hazel, what are you doing here?" asked Magda. "You don't work today."

"I have to do the schedule for Christmas time," she said before she picked up a large ledger from her desk and held it up. "Given that Ted," she pointed at him, "and Durrin and Nate will be in Russia, we have to plan for overtime."

"I guess that's the one good thing about going to Russia," Ted said, glancing at Magda. "I don't have to work overtime here."

"Eh, it's not so bad," she said. "We get help from the senior level guys across the hall. We just have to put in a few more extra hours here and there."

"Still…" Ted mumbled, thinking once again of how in just over a week, he'd be off to Russia for Christmas. As it was, news on the 'coming home early' front hadn't been looking good for him. Just as Susan had explained to him, wrangling up a Portkey on Christmas Eve seemed to truly be the impossible task; so much so, that the thought of making an illegal one was starting to sound almost ideal. Of course, Ted had jokingly mentioned that to Simon, who hadn't exactly taken kindly to the idea. Apparently, he took the crackdown of illegal Portkey creation somewhat seriously.

Still, Ted had been trying to remain optimistic, even though it seemed that Simon and Susan had exhausted every possible resource available to them to no avail. Both had gotten to the point where they were avoiding Ted's eyes whenever the topic was brought up, which told him fairly obviously that things really weren't looking good. He was beginning to accept his fate. He'd have to suck it up and learn how to say 'Happy Christmas' in Russian.

"It's supposed to be colder this Christmas in Russia than last year," Hazel said as she toiled over the schedule book at her desk. "You'd better make sure to pack warm, Ted."

He sighed. "Stop rubbing it in, Hazel."

"I'm not rubbing it in," she said. "I'm warning you."

"Sounded like rubbing to me."

"Ted," she said, her tone somewhat sympathetic. "I spent the last two Christmases in Russia. Trust me, I know it's crap."

He glanced at her, but she was already looking back in the schedule book with her quill in hand. He suddenly had to wonder if it was going to take a promotion to get him from having to be shipped off every year at Christmas time. Even if it did, it had taken Hazel nearly ten years to get to the position that she was currently at, which meant it wasn't happening for him any time soon. Maybe in nine years…

"Oh, Ted," Hazel said, looking up to catching him still staring at her. "Downstairs. Someone was looking for you."

"Who?"

"I don't know," she said, dipping her quill into an inkwell before returning to writing. "I overheard him asking a nurse about what floor the antidote research lab was, and so I butted into the conversation and asked him what exactly he was looking for. He said you, so I told him I didn't know if you were even working today. He apparently had some appointment with a Maternity Healer, so he said he'd come and check later."

"Maternity?" Ted said, realizing immediately who it probably was. "Did he have blonde hair? Bigger sort of bloke?"

"That's him."

"Yeah, I know who it is," he said, hopping off the stool he'd been sitting on and turning to look at the clock. He had to do ward rounds on the second-floor in a half an hour, but he had plenty of time to kill in the meantime. He might as well attempt to hunt Simon down and see what he was up to.

"Maternity Healers are on the fourth-floor, right?" he asked, heading towards the door.

"Yeah, down past the Mental Rehabilitation Ward," Hazel said, gesturing randomly to her right with the quill.

Ted nodded before exiting the room, where he immediately took to the stairs knowing that it would be much quicker to do this versus taking the lifts. If Hazel was right, this would pop him out right where she claimed the Maternity offices were.

He reached the fourth-floor and entered slowly onto the oddly quiet corridor. He wasn't sure where to look first, considering he didn't spend a whole lot of time up here on the fourth-floor. Most of the people on this floor were victims of spell damage, and that was generally outside the antidote realm that he worked within. The people on this floor were usually here for extended periods of time due to the damages they had incurred one way or another. Some of the residents never actually left, but rather they spent their dying days here. Ted had always found this to be the most depressing part of the hospital since there was so little hope to be found within its stark white corridors.

It was almost strange that a corner of this very floor was also dedicated to the maternity patients who were seeking Healing care and advice about the future. The irony of the maternity ward residing on the Spell Damage floor certainly wasn't lost on Ted, though he sometimes had to wonder if someone had done that on purpose. If they had, were they were still out there having a laugh about it?

He walked halfway down the length of the corridor and reached a plain white door with the word "Maternity" emblazoned across the front of it. He slowly pushed it open, where inside, several people were sitting scattered around the waiting area, though only two people even looked up at him upon his entrance. The rest were keeping themselves busy as they filled out forms and flipped through magazine. Luckily for Ted, one of the two of the faces that happened to have looked up at him happened to belong to Susan.

She smiled at him before reaching over to nudge Simon and get his attention away from the outdated copy of _Witches Weekly_ that he was absently searching through.

"What?" Simon asked, not looking up.

She proceeded to close his magazine for him and pointed at Ted.

"Oh," he said once he'd finally realized. "Hey, Ted. How'd you get here?"

"I work here," he said as he approached where the pair was sitting.

"You don't work here, though," Simon said, gesturing around the room. "You work downstairs. How'd you even know we were here?"

"I have ways of finding things out," Ted said, sounding purposely vague before he smiled at Susan. "Are you here getting checked up on?"

She slowly nodded. "I made Simon come with me this time."

"You should make him come with you every time," Ted said, throwing Simon a smile. "It's only right."

"Whose side are you on?" Simon mumbled.

"Hey, it is your kid, too," Ted said, taking the seat next to him.

"I'm aware of that," Simon said. "I just hate hospitals. They give me the willies. I don't know how you work in one."

Ted shrugged and gave the room a quick sweep with his eyes before settling on two very loud women with two equally as loud children sitting across from them. It looked as though the kids were callously fighting over a toy broom; clawing at each other and trying to bite the other for possession of it. Their mothers didn't seem to notice, and instead carried on chatting as if they weren't even there.

"I'm hoping mine will be just like them," Simon muttered, watching the display himself as the smaller of the two children swatted the larger one over the head with the broomstick handle.

Ted grinned. "Yeah? Well, if they are, don't ask me to sit for you."

"Oh, you'll be sitting for me whenever I need you to," Simon said quickly.

Ted made a doubtful face. "Right..."

Simon gave a short laugh before he reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out an envelope. He tore open at the side of it before pulling out a small piece of parchment from its insides. He held it out for Ted to take.

"What's this?" Ted asked, looking at what Simon had offered.

Simon said nothing. He just continued to hold the piece of parchment out to him, waiting for him to take it. When Ted finally did, he absently inspected it for a second before he noticed there was writing on one side of it. He flipped it over to scan the words.

"So, as I was saying," Simon said, "whenever I need you to sit for us, you're at my beck and call. That is, if I still have a kid to sit for. I pretty much had to give up my unborn child for that right there," he pointed to the paper in Ted's hand, "which means you may owe me and Susan one of those, too."

Ted read the words on the paper and realized it was a ticket of sorts. A receipt. It had a time stamp on it that read _December 24__th__: 3:08 AM Depart Moscow/ Destination Arrival: 9:08 PM Glasgow._

He sat up straight and turned immediately to look at Simon and Susan. She was smiling brightly at him, but Simon was merely smirking at him.

"Happy Christmas," Simon added. "Don't expect a present."

"You actually did it?" asked Ted.

He shrugged. "I'm pretty amazing."

"How in the hell did you…?" Ted said, staring at the ticket in his hand as if it wasn't really there; as if it would suddenly disappear if he looked away.

"It was all Simon's doing," Susan said. "He really got lucky."

"Oh, and by the way, you _have_ to take that Portkey home," Simon said. "You have no choice. If you don't, you'll be stuck in Russia until about February. I had to give up your other time in order to get that one."

Ted laughed in disbelief. "But how?"

"Like she said," Simon said, gesturing to Susan, "I got really lucky. I happened to working Portkeys yesterday afternoon, and this lady comes in bitching about how she was supposed to get back into the country on Christmas Eve to surprise her boyfriend. Well, as it turns out, 'the bastard'—her words, not mine—was cheating on her. So, she was demanding that we somehow extend her holiday since she didn't want to be back on Christmas Eve anymore." He grinned almost proudly. "So, I worked it out that she's got your arrival time on the twenty-sixth and you've got hers on Christmas Eve."

Ted gawked at him.

"Be thankful that lady was dating some tosser," Simon added.

"And," Susan added, "it all worked out because Edgecombe, our boss, loves Simon. Even though no switches were supposed to be made for the days around Christmas, she made an exception for him."

"I can't help it that I'm_ that_ charming," Simon said with fake modesty. "Though it did take quite a bit of begging." He glanced at Susan. "I may have named her godmother to our child."

Susan rolled her eyes. "You did not..."

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I almost did." He turned back to Ted. "Just know I busted my arse to get you that."

"Simon, I—" Ted laughed and stared at his ticket. "There are no words. I don't even know what to say. Thank you!"

He shrugged. "You owe me, Lupin."

"Absolutely," Ted said honestly. "You name it, it's done."

"Oh, I've thought of a few things," Simon said, "besides the baby sitting, of course. For starters, as my best man, you're clearly in charge of the stag party. So, it better be bloody fantastic."

"Done," Ted said affirmatively. "Whatever you want, it's done."

"Damn straight," Simon said. "Oh, and it should be the night before the wedding. That's the day I had in my head at least. Maybe start out by doing some drinking at the Dragon's Breath or something, just to get warmed up, you know? I want to plan on making sure we all start drinking early."

"Not a problem," Ted said with a nod. "Night before the wedding. Dragon's Breath. Lots of drinking. Got it."

"I just want a really fun blokes' night out," he added, "just me and my mates." He glanced at Susan and smiled. "Sorry, honey, no girls allowed."

"How will I ever get by?" she said dryly. "Though, if that's the case, then that better apply to all girls straight across the board."

"Well, yeah," Simon said obviously before he gestured to Ted. "It's not as if I'm going to let him bring Victoire while you sit at home."

"Those aren't the sorts of girls I was talking about…"

"Ohhh, you mean…" He laughed. "No, course not. I wouldn't dream of it." He looked back at Ted with a look that said, '_We'll talk about that later_.' "Anyway, just make sure you've got plenty of that hangover, Pepper-Up Potion stuff that you make ready to go. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I plan on drinking heavily."

"Yes, you've mentioned it," Susan said before she looked at Ted. "And please make that a priority. Him crawling in hung over is not something I want to explain to my family on my wedding day."

"Not a problem," Ted said with a smile. "Anything else?"

"I'll think of something," Simon said before he looked at Susan. "Did you have anything to add?"

"I'm sure I'll have a wedding errand or two for him somewhere," she said with a quick smile. "And he can't complain, even though we all know how much Ted _loves_ weddings."

Ted made a quick face, but slowly forced a smile. "For you two, I'll make an exception."

"You're damn right you will," Simon said.

Ted couldn't stop grinning as he glanced once more down as his Portkey receipt. He'd actually be back before Christmas. He'd actually be home this year instead of shacked up in some Russian Inn with Nate and Durrin! And all he had to do in return was plan a stag party that he had already been prepared to do in the first place? How lucky could he get?

"So, Ted," Susan asked, leaning over Simon to meet his face, "what do you think Victoire will say when you tell her you'll be getting home early?"

He pursed his lips as he considered that. She'd probably be thrilled; at least, that's what he hoped. He tried to picture her reaction when she found out, but as he did, he was suddenly struck by the desire to see her reaction live and in person. Truth be told, he almost didn't want to tell her so he could surprise her. Did he have to tell her? It wasn't as if showing up unexpectedly and unannounced wouldn't provide for a fun sort of shock. She wouldn't be expecting it at all.

He read over his ticket for probably the one-hundredth time since he'd got it in his hand before he finally looked back at Susan. "I don't think I'm going to tell her."

She stared at him curiously. "You're not? I would have thought that would be one of the very first things you'd do."

He continued to smile the more he thought about it, but he slowly began to shake his head. "No, I think I'll surprise her and just turn up on Christmas Eve."

Susan's expression went from curious to soft in a matter of seconds. In an instant, her eyes got wide and her mouth looked like it wanted to smile and frown at the same time. Out of nowhere, tears started to form at the corners of her tear ducts and she quickly sniffled. "Oh, Ted, that's so sweet!"

Ted's face went blank. Why was she crying?

"The hormones from being pregnant make her really emotional," Simon whispered, just as Susan sniffled again. "The mood swings can be mind boggling."

"They are not," Susan snapped, throwing Simon an annoyed look.

"I was kidding," he said quickly, reaching over to rub her back reassuringly. He glanced back at Ted, catching his eye before silently mouthing, "I'm not kidding."


	21. A Set of Rules

"WHAT!?!" screamed Victoire, her voice rivaling the screeching noise from within the Forbidden Forest.

"That's what I saw," Sarah said, still giggling hysterically. "Clear as could be."

"WHAT?" Victoire repeated, feeling as if her jaw was hitting the floor. "There's no way. I don't believe it."

"I told you that you wouldn't believe it."

"I don't."

"I told you."

"You seriously saw—?"

"Vicki. I'm not making this up."

"There's absolutely no way…"

"I swear," Sarah said as she began laughing again. She started to look as if she might hyperventilate from laughing so hard.

Victoire gawked briefly, but that soon gave way to laughter that matched Sarah's. It wasn't until she was distracted by the shape of another small figure emerging from the arena's entrance that she started to calm. She watched as the person drew closer, already knowing full-well who it was.

"You waste no time, Sarah," Dominique said, throwing Sarah an exasperated look as she lugged her Quidditch bag over her shoulder. She glanced at her sister. "I could hear you yelling from inside the arena."

"Please tell me Sarah did not see what she's claiming?" Victoire asked, her laughter growing louder the longer she looked at her sister's face. Even if Dominique admitted to this, she still wasn't sure she was going to believe it.

"She saw it," Dominique said coolly, sounding rather bored. "I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"You were snogging Henry Davies!" Victoire all but yelled through her laughter. "How is that not a big deal? You can't stand him. He can't stand you. How on earth does that line end up being crossed?"

Dominique shrugged, again looking bored and unfazed by the revelation. "Dunno. It just did."

Victoire groaned through her laugher. "I'd never thought I'd see the day where you and Davies…You fancy, Davies?"

Dominique immediately shook her head. "No. He's still as annoying a prat as they come."

Victoire stopped laughing. .

"Wait, what?" Sarah asked, sounding as confused as Victoire felt.

"It's really cold," Dominique said, gesturing towards the castle. "Can we walk and talk? You both can handle that, right?"

They stared at her.

"You just take steps and move your mouth at the same time," Dominique added, using her hand to mimic the action of a mouth opening and closing. She turned and walked off towards Hogwarts.

"Wait, what?" Sarah repeated, chasing after Dominique.

"'Wait, what,' what?" Dominique asked.

"You don't fancy him, but you're kissing him?"

"We have a winner."

Victoire and Sarah exchanged utterly confused expressions as they both took opposite sides of Dominique as she tried to walk ahead of them.

"How does that make any sense?" Victoire asked.

"Why does everything have to make sense to you?"

Victoire didn't even know how to answer that. Considering the source, things for Dominique rarely did make sense. She created her own crazy, confusing, 'it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks' rules that tended to baffle any normal person who happened to come across them.

"How did this happen?" Sarah asked.

Dominique shrugged. "You really care?"

Victoire looked at her sister sideways. "I just think this is really unexpected. I mean, you hate—er, hated Henry."

"For the record, I still don't like him much," she said. "He's just a really good kisser."

"What?" Sarah said, looking thunderstruck. "Are you listening to yourself? You're supposed to be the last person to ever say those words about Davies. He's your nemesis!"

Dominique laughed. "Did you seriously just call him my nemesis? Are _you_ listening to yourself?"

"Look, I just want to know what happened," Victoire said. "I actually find myself needing to know details because I just can't wrap my head around how this would have occurred otherwise."

Dominique groaned. "If I tell you, will you drop it?"

Sarah said, "No," just as Victoire said, "Probably not."

Dominique took a heavy breath. "I don't see why you actually care," she said. "It just happened a few weeks ago—"

"A few weeks ago!?" Victoire yelled as they reached the castle doors. "You mean it didn't just happen?!"

"Everyone's got secrets," Sarah mumbled more to herself than to anyone else.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" Dominique asked impatiently.

Victoire made a gesture of covering her mouth.

"Anyway," Dominique began. "I don't remember when, but I was going downstairs to the library from Gryffindor Tower one night. Halfway down, I ran into Davies on his way up to his own tower and I made some sort of snarky comment like always. Something along the lines of claiming I'd heard he had a small penis and wondering if that was reason he was always trying to overcompensate for everything."

"Charming as always," Victoire mumbled.

"So," Dominique continued, ignoring her sister, "we went back in forth, as we do, and he said something along the lines of, 'if I really wanted to know how big his penis was, all I had to do was ask.' Of course, I told him I'd rather eat dragon dung than have to see _that_, and he seemed to think that was funny."

Victoire stared wide-eyed at Dominique, but Sarah laughed.

"That was when I turned to leave because, at this point, he was already boring me. But he suddenly called after me. He says something like, 'if I put as much effort into shagging as I do into bitching, then he'd bet I'd be great in the sack.'"

"Oh, well, at least he's equally as charming," Victoire said dryly.

"But I just laughed at him," Dominique said, sounding unfazed. "I told him, 'wouldn't you like to know?' before I walked off. I mean, you hear stuff like that all the time out on the Quidditch pitch. We all talk a lot of rubbish."

"We noticed after out little run in with the Ravenclaw team earlier," Sarah mumbled.

"To be honest," Victoire said, "that doesn't sound like rubbish. That sounds like he wants to get into your pants."

Dominique shrugged. "I honestly just wrote it off to him being stupid. I didn't think anything of it until later."

"What happened later?"

Dominique sighed, sounding as if they were unconvincing her with making her retell the story. "Well, later that night, I'm sitting in the library with—" She stopped and pointed at both Victoire and Sarah. "With you two. And Natalie. It was that night she was doing those stupid Tarot Card readings, remember?"

Victoire nodded.

"Yeah, well, remember he and I got into that argument, and how he threw that paper ball at me?"

They both nodded this time as they started to climb the main set of stairs up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Remember how he said he'd written something inside? Well, when I looked to see what it said, he'd written, _I actually would like to know_."

"He would like to know what?" Victoire asked.

"The last thing I said to him after he made that 'great in the sack comment' was 'wouldn't you like to know,'" Dominique clarified.

Sarah's jaw dropped. "You're serious?"

"Wait," Victoire said as she suddenly remembered something about that night. "You weren't kidding, then? When you told the whole room that you didn't want to sleep with him? You didn't make that up?"

Dominique laughed loudly. "No, see, that's why it was so funny, because if you saw his face, he couldn't believe I actually said that."

Victoire's expression turned slightly awestruck. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing."

Sarah shushed Victoire. "Wait, what happened?" she urged Dominique.

She sighed, still looking bored as she tried to remember the details. "After I read the letter, I remember laughing and thinking it was sort of funny. For some reason, I was strangely intrigued by it all, which is weird because I can't stand the guy. Mostly though, I'm just curious as to why he's even bothering." She shrugged. "Mostly, I figured he was probably just screwing with me because it seems like something he would do."

"Naturally," Sarah offered.

"Well, I'm sure you remember that Pince kicked us out of the library right after that," Dominique said, skipping a few steps ahead. "So, of course he and I both have to walk in the same direction back up to our towers. He's blaming me for getting us kicked out and I'm blaming him. He thinks I'm out of line for toppling his chair over, I think he's a prick for that little comment he made about me being the one who wants to shag him—when it's clearly the other way around. We're just going back and forth like always until he suddenly stops to turn towards Ravenclaw Tower and he says, 'Well, I'm still curious. You'll come around.'"

"Cocky bastard," Sarah muttered.

"That's exactly what I told him," Dominique said as they reached the landing where the staircase split into two directions—one to Gryffindor Tower and the other to Ravenclaw. "Right there on that step," she pointed at the stairs, "I said exactly that. 'You're a cocky bastard."

"He may be a cocky bastard," Victoire said, "but he's also right. You did come around."

"Not entirely," Dominique said, giving her sister a silencing look. "You need to hear the rest of the story. Anyway, a week passes and I barely see him until I show up for Quidditch practice early one night. Ravenclaw was wrapping up and I sat down to wait. Davies lands on the ground and walks over to me and makes some unfunny comment about how I'm stalking him. I tell him I'm actually just spying on their team's practice. Mind you, I'd already forgotten about everything that had happened the week before until—out of blue—he asks if I've come around yet."

"What'd you say?" Victoire asked.

Dominique laughed to herself. "I told him that the last thing I would be doing anytime soon is coming around him."

Sarah burst into laughter, though it took Victoire a minute to understand what was so funny. Once it did dawn on her, she quickly made a face. "That's gross, Nic."

"I was making a point," Dominique said. "I'm sorry your delicate and wholesome little ears had to hear that."

"I'm not delicate or wholesome—" Victoire countered.

"What did Davies say to that?" Sarah interrupted.

"He laughed," Dominique said. "Then I told him he was an idiot if he thought I had any desire to shag him. But as I said it, he just stood there the entire time, leaning against his broom and smiling at me as if he thought it was all very funny. It was so strange, but then he said, 'If you change your mind, let me know' as casually as could be. As if we were talking about the weather."

"He's as weird as you are," Victoire mumbled.

"_Anyway_," Dominique said, shooting Victoire a look. "A couple of days go by and for some reason I start to think, 'How funny would it be if I called him out on this? What would he do? He probably wouldn't even know what to do with himself.' So, I decided it was just too funny to pass up. I had to call Davies on his bluff."

"What did you do?" Sarah asked as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded Gryffindor Tower.

"Okay, well, I saw him in the library one night, so I walked over to where he was sitting with his friends and I called him stupid or something—just to get his attention. I walked away into the shelves of books, figuring that I had a fifty-fifty chance that he'd follow me, but he didn't. So when I walked back out, I made some off-hand comment to him about not being able to take a hint."

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Beat Ravenclaw," Victoire said to her, which made the portrait immediately swing open. All three girls stepped through.

"And," Dominique continued as they entered the crowded common room, "not even a minute and a half after I'd walked away, he turns up and sits down across from me. Immediately, he asks about what hint he should be taking. I tell him I've thought about things and I'm now interested." She laughed a little. "I was trying so hard not laugh while I said it, because I was so sure his head was going to explode when he heard, but—" her expression turned a little more serious, "he didn't seem at all fazed. He just smirked and asked me when and where."

Victoire stared at her sister as if she was some fascinating sort of foreign creature. These sorts of things never happened to her, or to the majority of the people she knew, but leave it to Dominique to break the mold. The idea of her sister having a normal sort of relationship with a boy seemed like too much to even comprehend. She had to have an off the wall, unpredictable, totally bizarre kind of relationship. She had to.

"After that, I noticed that Davies still isn't cracking," Dominique said, "so I decided to push him even further. I tell him that I'm still not really interested in sleeping with him right now, but we can fool around for a bit and see how that works out and go from there. I even start to make up rules to see what I could get him to agree with."

Sarah laughed. "This part _doesn't_ surprise me."

"For example, I tell him this isn't leading anywhere. It's not like I fancy him and want him as my boyfriend, so he has to understand that it would really just be a physical thing." She laughed. "Well, he easily agreed to that, but then I told him he couldn't tell anyone because I really don't want people to know that I'm having anything to do with him."

"Cute, Nic," Victoire said sarcastically.

"Again, he seemed completely fine with that," Dominique added. "When I was telling him this, he actually looked as if he was trying not to laugh at everything I was saying, which only made me further think that the two of us were just playing this game to see who would break first. It sure as hell wasn't going to be me."

"Of course not," said Victoire.

"So, as a last ditch effort to get him to crack and admit he's full of shit," she continued, "I told him the last rule was that he had to be readily available whenever I wanted him to be, but that I could blow him off if I felt like it."

"And he agreed to that?"

"Not right away," she said. "He claimed that wasn't very fair, but I told him that it was tough luck. Take it or leave it." She shrugged. "He took it."

"Unsurprising," Sarah said.

"Of course, at this point," Dominique continued as she walked over to an empty armchair across the room to sit, "I'm really starting to wonder what his game is."

"You never once thought that his game might be exactly what he's telling you?" Victoire asked

"Honestly, no," she said. "I thought he'd have more sense than to be that blunt with me if he was being serious."

"Apparently, he's got plenty of sense because it worked," Victoire said. "And you still didn't tell us how it worked."

"Hold on, I'm getting there," Dominique said impatiently. "Where was I? Oh, right, the rules. Anyway, after all the rules and the discussion were done, he finally says something like, 'Meet me up on the seventh-floor in ten minutes' on some random corridor. You know the one where everyone goes to fool around?"

"Yeah, of course," Sarah said. "None of the staff ever goes us there, so it's perfect for that stuff."

Dominique grinned. "You sound like an expert. Who you been up there with lately?"

Victoire smirked at Sarah, though watched as her face quickly went blank. "No, I mean, I've just heard…" The volume of her voice dropped. "I've heard people do that…"

"So, then what happened?" Victoire asked, taking the attention of Sarah.

"After he told me," Dominique continued, "I immediately think that here's where he's got his plan worked out. This is where whatever it is he's planning will jump out at me. I even contemplated not going, but in the end I decide to suck it up. I just pulled out my wand and readied myself."

Victoire laughed. "You pull out your wand? Like he's going to curse you?"

"You never know what people might do if you let your guard down."

"Right…"

"Davies isn't there where I get there, so I position myself behind this suit of armor and wait with my wand at the ready. I wait for all of three minutes until I hear someone coming, which sure enough is him. He's by himself, carrying his stuff, and when he spots me, he just starts laughing. So now, I'm ready for whatever it is he finds funny to happen, but he merely just stops in front of me, drops his stuff down, and then pushes me back against the wall and kisses me."

"And at this point, did you finally realize what was going on?" Victoire asked.

"At that point," Dominique said with a hasty face, "I was about two second away from kicking him in the crotch again. But I didn't, because as it turns out, Davies is a damn good kisser. I mean, the boy is useless at everything else there is in the world, but the boy knows how to kiss. I'll give him that."

Sarah groaned and made a funny face. "I can't believe you kissed him back…"

Dominique shrugged. "Why not? I might as well enjoy it if it's right there. Though, we only snogged for maybe ten minutes before I realized it was curfew and we had to be back to our towers. That was when I pushed him off and told him I wasn't going to get detention for him of all people."

"And you've been doing this for how long again?" Sarah asked.

"Like I said, a couple of weeks. Sometimes in empty corridors, but mostly behind the Quidditch changing rooms before and after practice. We meet up in the middle somewhere."

"Yeah, I found you in the middle of _something,_ all right," said Sarah.

"But you don't fancy him?" Victoire asked.

Dominique shook her head. "I don't hate him like I used to, though, it's easier to just pretend like I do. I still think he's rather annoying most of the time, but he's not so bad when he keeps his mouth shut." She smiled a little. "Or when he keeps it otherwise preoccupied.

Victoire gawked at her.

"But, seriously, there are no real feelings there. I just enjoy fooling around and that's that. It's really uncomplicated. He could go and get a girlfriend tomorrow and I really wouldn't care."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Nope," she said. "Sure, he's a good kisser, but I'd get over it. It's like we're friends with benefits, except we're not really friends, so I don't know what you'd call it." She looked at Sarah and smiled. "Well, Sarah would call it nemeses with benefits."

"I would, too," Sarah said, sharing her smile. "In fact, I am going to call it that."

"I think it's got a ring to it," Dominique said. "I like it. Though, don't go around telling everyone. If people thought Davies and I…" She made a horrified face.

Victoire cracked an oddly amused smile in the direction of her sister. Strangely enough, Dominique really did seem like she meant everything she said; that it was purely physical and there was no emotional attachment. It was sometimes hard to tell, considering that she often masked her true feelings whenever they seemed to surface, but perhaps it wasn't too far fetched to believe Dominique was only involved with someone to have a good time. It seemed very much like her, actually. She was the type to live in the moment rather than dwell and over think everything that came her way.

As Victoire thought about that, she suddenly realized that Dominique had exact opposite of what she currently had—all of action with none of the emotions or commitment. Not that Victoire would ever trade what she had, but she couldn't deny that hearing stories of being thrust up against a wall and taken in some random corridor weren't making her mind go to one very specific place. A place that the more she thought about it, the more she started to hate Russian Healers, dragon pox, and antidote research.

All of this—hearing all of this—only further made Victoire realize how different she and Dominique truly were. Where her sister had come from, she didn't know, but at the moment, she found herself a little jealous of her inhibited nature. Dominique did what felt good whenever she wanted to do it. She thought little of the consequences or of what may happen outside of the moment. She didn't constantly question or care what everyone else thought, or whether enough time had passed with someone to constitute being ready to take things to the next level—unlike Victoire who thought of nothing else.

It was as if hearing all of this was a bit of a wake up call. In that instant, Victoire felt rather silly for being so concerned with taking things further with Ted. She wanted to do it, so why didn't she just go with how she felt? Why did she care so much about the stigma attached to it? Why did she always work herself up over whether enough time had passed for things to be considered appropriate? Why didn't she just do what felt good like Dominique did? What was stopping her?

"Hellooooooo, Victoire," Dominique said, cutting into Victoire's thoughts. She looked up to see that she and Sarah were staring at her. "What are you doing? Your face is all screwed up."

Victoire shrugged as a vision of being in a dark corridor with Ted flashing across her thoughts. "I just miss Ted."

Dominique rolled her eyes. "Oh, here we go…"

"She's allowed to miss him," Sarah offered.

"And I'm allowed to roll my eyes," she countered.

"Shut up," Victoire said, throwing her a lofty look. "You're really one to talk. Messing about with Henry Davies, who you probably _do_ secretly fancy."

Dominique's face fell. "That's not even funny."

"Nicki and Henry sitting in a tree," Victoire teased in a sing-song tone, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"I hate you," Dominique muttered.

"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes—"

"I will kick you, Victoire. You know I will."

"You two are terrible," Sarah said, watching them both with great amusement.

"Hey," said a sudden new voice that made them all turn. Whit's had suddenly snuck up on all three of them. Her face was pink from the cold, her hair was windswept and unkempt, and her eyes were glassy and red, as though she'd been crying. Her expression, however, was calm and collected.

"Hey," Victoire said, sitting up straight to take her in. "What happened? Did you two talk?"

Whit nodded.

"And? You look like you're relieved, so things must be okay?"

"Did you two fix everything?" Sarah asked.

"Sort of," Whit said slowly.

"That's great!" said Sarah.

"What do you mean sort of?" Victoire asked.

"Well_, I_ did what I had to do to fix things," Whit said matter-of-factly, though her eyes started to cloud with tears as she spoke. "Fix things for me, that is. So…" She shrugged. "I broke up with him."


	22. Two Plans

"Ted!" screamed Lily Potter from across the Potters' back garden. "Hugo threw a snowball at me and it hit me in the head!"

"I did not!" Hugo yelled back.

"Who else threw it, then?" Lily asked.

Hugo Weasley was silent for a moment, a snowball tightly gripped in his gloved hand. He had been poised and ready to chuck it across the snow covered garden at that very moment, but he now seemed to be reconsidering. "Okay, maybe it was me…"

"See, Ted!" Lily said, pointing at Hugo. "He did it! He admitted it!"

Ted watched them both from his spot near the back door of the Potters' house, where he'd just cleared most of what little snow was on the ground to stand on the concrete stoop. He had been making a point of keeping himself rooted to the spot to avoid the cross breeze that was blustering through the Potter' yard at the moment, and he certainly had no desire to trek over through the snow to mediate a conflict between the two nine-year-olds. He was already cold enough as it was.

"Lil," Ted said lazily. "You're having a snowball fight. You're going to get hit with snowballs."

"Yes, but heads are off limits!"

"Since when?" Hugo asked.

"Since now!"

"That's the dumbest rule I've ever heard."

"_You're_ the dumbest rule I've ever heard," Lily countered.

"Lily…" Ted said, rolling his eyes, but trying not to laugh at how ridiculous she had just sounded. "Don't call your cousin dumb. You know better than that."

Lily scoffed before she doubled over and began picking up as much snow as she could muster into her arms. Hugo was watching her curiously; inching closer and closer towards her to examine what she was doing. Ted had a feeling that he should probably be going in the opposite direction, but he wasn't about to say anything.

Instead, he checked his watch. It was a quarter after four; Ginny was due home any minute now. Earlier, she had had an emergency deadline for the _Daily Prophet_ bumped up by hours and had rushed down to their offices in order to meet it in time. Of course, thinking she had had the day off, she hadn't made plans for Lily to go anywhere, and had even volunteered to have Hugo over on top of things. It was because of this that Ted had received a pleading letter to come and sit for them both if he possibly had the time. Apparently, Ginny had tried to take them both down to the newspaper while she worked, but Lily and Hugo had found their way into the ink storage supply closet and knocked over four crates of specialty blinking headline ink. Lucky for Ginny, Ted had turned up just around that time and taken them both off of her hands.

Turning his attention back towards the garden, Lily was still busy building—what looked like—a cannon sized snow ball. Hugo was idly observing her as he packed his own smaller snowballs, though he didn't look very worried about the super ball Lily was building. Ted could blame him. At the rate she was going, Lily wasn't going to be able to pick her ball up without it falling apart.

"I miss Al," Hugo said, sounding bored. "He's fun. He doesn't care if I hit him in the head."

"I miss Rosie," Lily said without looking away from her snow cannon ball. "She doesn't whine _all the time_."

"Yes, she does," Hugo said, missing Lily's jab.

"Why are you two so cranky?" Ted asked, wondering what had gotten into the two of them. Usually, Hugo and Lily got on better than any of the younger kids when they got together.

Hugo shrugged, but Lily didn't say anything as her cannon ball got bigger. Ted was beginning to think that she'd given up on the snowball fight all together and was instead making a snowman.

"Hey, Ted," Lily said as she looked up from her project, though her voice was barely audible. "Why are you…?"

"I can't hear you," Ted called back.

"Why are you going to Russia!" she yelled before falling haphazardly into a sitting position in the snow.

"Because I have to."

"But you missed Christmas last year."

He shrugged, but broke eye contact with her and focused instead at the snow that had collected on his shoes. He hadn't told anyone about his plans to come home early on Christmas Eve because he knew that the Potters and Weasleys tended to talk. Harry he could trust with keeping things quiet, but telling Lily, Ginny, or any of the others meant that within an hour's time, everyone would know. If he wanted to keep this surprise from being spoiled, he had to keep his mouth shut entirely. He needed to pretend like he was still missing Christmas.

"When will you be back?" Lily asked as she hopped up off the ground and came jogging towards where he was standing. The closer she got, the more Ted could see that her face was almost as red as her hair.

"Boxing Day."

She made a disgruntled face. She didn't seem to appreciate hearing that.

"How about we go inside?" Ted asked, pointing to the house. "You're all red, Lil. You look like a ginger ice lolly."

Hugo laughed from where he had appeared nearby, though his face was just as red as Lily's.

"You're not much better, Hugo," Ted said, turning to open the back door behind him so that all three of them could spill into the warm and cozy kitchen.

Immediately, Hugo peeled out of his jacket and rushed into the living room, but Lily stopped and struggled with hers. She couldn't seem to dislodge the zipper on the front, so Ted bent down to help. After playing with it for a minute, he began to think that he'd done more harm than good. It had snagged fairly tightly.

"I might need to cut it," he said as the sound of a door opening and shutting from the other room reverberated through the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder to where the living room was. "That better have not been Hugo going out the front."

"It's not," said Hugo, reentering the room. "It's Aunt Ginny."

"Hi," said Ginny as she followed Hugo into the room. She smiled at everyone as she dropped her bag and several items onto the table.

"You're back," Ted said, still struggling with Lily's zipper.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "Thank you so much again for watching them." She looked at her daughter. "Is your jacket snagged again?"

"I need a new one," Lily said as she continued to watch Ted attempt to fix it.

"You really do," Ginny muttered, edging in front of Ted and taking over his attempts. With one quick pull—the sort of pull Ted had been afraid to do for fear of breaking the jacket—the zipper split. Lily was released from within its confines, but it looked as if the zipper was now completely useless.

"I'm free!" Lily cheered, pulling it off her shoulders and tossing it idly on the table. A moment later, she had dashed rather quickly into the living room with a curious looking Hugo trailing after her.

"Seriously, Ted," Ginny said as she tapped her wand to the broken zipper and watched as it repaired itself. "You're a lifesaver. I can't thank you enough."

"It's no big deal," he said. "I was just going to sleep and pack today anyway."

"Pack…? Oh, that's right. You leave for Russia in…?"

"Two days."

"Two days," she said with a nod. "And you're missing Christmas again."

"Yeah."

"I think it's ridiculous that they keep sending you away for the holidays," she said, shaking her head.

Ted shrugged and looked away. "I have to do what I have to do."

"It's still ridiculous. And you'll just miss the boys since they're due home the day you're leaving."

"Trust me," Ted mumbled, thinking of the day he had been religiously counting down towards since the day Victoire had left in the first place, "I know."

"And then there's Victoire," Ginny said, now staring at him. "You'll just miss her, too, won't you?"

He begrudged a smile.

"Well, this really just mucks up all your plans, doesn't it?"

"It adds a few unnecessary frustrations," he muttered.

"You'll be back when, though?"

"Boxing Day."

"Well," she smiled, "you know Harry, the kids, and I will just have to have another little celebration for when you get back. I think if Harry had his way, he'd make the kids all wait the extra day until you got back and we were all properly together, but he always ends up giving in." She sighed. "He can't say no to those three."

Ted laughed, knowing all too well how hard it was to say no to all three of the kids when they teamed up. When they actually had their minds set on the same thing, no one stood a chance.

"What time does your Portkey leave on Thursday?" she asked.

"Um, around six in the afternoon, I think. I'm never really sure. I have to check it."

She gave him a curious look. "You're not going down to King's Cross?"

He shook his head and watched as she started unloading newspaper copies from her bag. "Why would I?"

"I just thought," she began, taking a seat at the kitchen table, "that since the train gets in around five that you may try to go down and say hello to Victoire. After your little display back in September to see her off, it just seemed like something you might do."

"Since when does the train get in at five?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "It's always gotten in around six."

She shook her head. "It used to until recently. I think they're trying to get the kids out earlier, or perhaps they've worked out some speed spell, I don't know. It gets in at five now."

Ted's face went blank. If this was true and the train did get in at five instead of six, then he could easily make it down to the station for a few minutes. Even if he got to see Victoire for five minutes, that would tide him over for four days. Five minutes was better than nothing. Five minutes would be fantastic; not to mention that it would be yet another opportunity to surprise her on top of him coming home early. At this rate, he'd be on a roll.

He smiled to himself the more he thought about that. He could be full of surprises if he did this right. He was even starting to surprise himself.

"Eh, it is sort of cutting it close," Ginny added, "so I really don't blame you."

Ted glanced back at her, his mind now busy working overtime with the thoughts of how he could make this all tangible. He slowly began to grin. "Hey? Do you need someone to pick up the boys?"

* * *

Victoire, Dominique, and Sarah had all sat in the Gryffindor common room for over fifteen minutes listening to Whit recall, non-stop, the events of what had happened while she had been out talking with Jack.

She had remained extremely collected and calm while recounting everything, explaining how both she and Jack had walked around for awhile and talked about how things were different now. Neither seemed to know why, and neither could think of a viable solution as to how to fix things. The way Whit told it, they had apparently both came to the same conclusion—though Whit claimed it was she who actually suggested it first—that perhaps they should move on to other people. Neither had argued the fact, and that was that. It was over.

As Victoire watched her friend's face as she talked, she got the impression that Whit seemed to understand that what she'd done had needed to be done, but she also seemed mostly hurt by the fact Jack had agreed without protest after she had suggested them splitting up. Everyone sitting there tried to explain to Whit that Jack simply saw everything she had, and had realized that moving on was best for them both, but that didn't seem to make her feel any better. Apparently, part of Whit had really wanted him to object; when he hadn't, she had realized just how right she'd been all along.

From what Victoire could deduce, it was clean break. No fighting—which, anyone who knew either of them had expected—no real drama, no real problem. Whit had even mentioned that they had ended their relationship about halfway through their walk, quite a distance from the school, but Jack had insisted on walking her back up to the castle; all the while trying to make pleasant small talk with her.

That bit of news there—news that Victoire had seen as a nice gesture on Jack's part to show that he wanted things between them to stay civil—that had made Whit tear up as she spoke. She claimed that it was that very gesture that had shown her how different things were already. As she put it, what had gone from a couple walking and talking about their relationship had turned into, minutes later, two people who used to date forcing small talk for the sake of nothing better to say.

Still, after all was said and done, Victoire had frankly been rather surprised to see how composed Whit had taken everything. With the exception of tearing slightly at that one instance, she seemed fairly put together. Victoire had expected her to be emotional, or upset, or even a little angry; instead, Whit was tranquil, though solemn while she spoke. By the end of her recount, she even seemed rather unfazed by it all…

That was, until Jack returned and walked in through the portrait hole.

Whit's eyes had darted straight to him, though he hadn't bothered to look in her direction. She had watched his every step as he went about his business and disappeared up to the boys' dormitory moments after he had entered. Watching him had apparently triggered something inside of her to react. Within moments, she was in tears.

The next half an hour had been spent upstairs in their room, with Victoire trying to reassure Whit that she had done the right thing, attempting to console her, telling her that she knew how she felt, and letting her know that things would get better. She wanted her to know that something greater would come along. Sure, it hurt now, but time heals. That was the expression wasn't it?

Even Dominique and Sarah had taken turns listening to Whit vent about everything—from her getting nostalgic about the good times, only to flip suddenly and get upset about things being over. She let it all out—her emotions, her thoughts about Jack, how much she hated Quidditch, how she couldn't believe she'd slept with him, how she wondered if sex had been the real reason things had changed so much, and whether if they'd had sex more would things still be fine? It was as if someone had opened the floodgates. Months and months of frustration, adulation, sadness, excitement, and a hundred other up and down emotions just came flowing out of her for over an hour.

A very long hour…

But that had been on Friday and after the initial fallout. Victoire wasn't sure what to expect for the weekend, but it seemed that a night's worth of sleeping on everything had calmed Whit considerably. In the following days, she seemed to be in better spirits, and she seemed content with the fact that the break up hadn't been as messy as it could have been. She'd even seemed fairly optimistic that maybe, in due time, she and Jack could be friends again.

Well, maybe…

"Gryffindor lost?" Whit had asked the second Victoire had returned to the common room and found her sitting and reading on her own. She had been one of the only people who hadn't attended the Quidditch match that Sunday morning, which meant she hadn't seen Gryffindor get crushed by Ravenclaw.

Victoire nodded, though it only took one look at the sullen faces of the people who were returning to the common room behind her to confirm this. She had practically run out of the arena to get back here to tell the Whit the news, though being one of the first ones back hadn't exactly been a difficult task. After the match, most of Gryffindor had stayed planted in their seats, their mouths still hanging open in shock.

Whit let out a doubtful laugh, but slowly forced her expression to be curious. "But how?" She tightened her gaze. "Did Jack play poorly?"

Victoire shook her head. "Jack actually played really well."

She frowned. "Oh. Well. Good for him…"

Victoire backtracked, sensing that maybe Whit had wanted to hear that Jack wasn't at the top of his game given everything that happened. "I mean, his flying was bit off."

Whit's eyebrow rose, but her attention was diverted by the crowds of people who were walking through the portrait hole with grumpy and despondent faces. It almost looked as if someone had died.

"We didn't score enough points," Victoire added, checking over her shoulder and seeing her cousin, James, talking to his brother, Albus, and a few other boys. She could distinctly hear him uttering the phrase, 'If I were on the team, we would have won…'

"Nicki didn't catch the Snitch?" Whit asked.

"No, she caught it," Victoire mumbled. "She had to or else Giggleswick would have." She sighed. "No, apparently the problem is that Liam Brighton is a far better Keeper than anyone gave him credit for. Oh, and Kenley isn't."

Whit smiled a little. "She's not?"

"Nope."

"Are you just saying that?"

"Ravenclaw was up eighty points in the first five minutes of the match. I only counted five goals that she'd blocked the entire time. It was like she froze for the first twenty minutes, and when she did finally wake up, it was too late. They were already a hundred points ahead."

Whit hummed appreciatively. She appeared to be the only one in the room who didn't look completely miserable. "Well, you win some, you lose some. What can you do?"

Victoire held up her hand to shush her. "Keep your voice down. People might hear you."

Whit rolled her eyes. "Quidditch is taken entirely too seriously around here. In fact, I'll be the first one to say it. Who cares?"

Victoire glanced around the room to see if anyone had heard her

"It's not even that big of a deal—" she continued, just as the sound of someone bursting through the portrait hole made her stop. Both she and Victoire—and most of the people in the room— turned to look, only to find Dominique throwing her Quidditch bag angrily onto the ground. She had apparently bypassed the changing rooms entirely, seeing as she was still in her uniform with traces of mud and water covering the front.

"Ravenclaw are a bunch of tossers!" Dominique yelled, making a very public declaration to the room. She kicked her Quidditch bag for good measure.

"Nic, calm down," said Louis, who had entered just behind her.

Victoire threw Whit a weary look before she turned to go and join her brother. If one thing was for sure, it was that Dominique was not a good loser.

"Better the bag rather than some poor and unsuspecting person," said Louis, just as Victoire approached.

"You played really well," offered Sarah, who was now standing beside Louis.

"Really," Louis agreed. "You got the Snitch right out from Giggleswick. Imagine if you hadn't—"

"What does it matter?" Dominique asked, her voice lowering considerably. "We still lost. We still got bloody beaten by Ravenclaw! Of all teams! Ravenclaw!"

Victoire watched as Louis and Sarah exchanged quick looks, but she instead focused on her sister. "Nic, there's nothing you could have done. You did your part."

"I could have played Keeper," she said derisively. "Merlin knows I'd do a better job that Kenley did."

"Give her a break. She's new and she was nervous," Louis said, though just as the words escaped his mouth, through the portrait hole came Kenley and three other members of Gryffindor team—including Jack. All four looked utterly dejected.

"I will not," Dominique said, glaring at Kenley before she stepped around her brother towards her. "Way to block, Mortimer. We would have had more luck not having a Keeper at all!"

"Nicki, stop," Jack said, stepping forward. "I don't need the team fighting."

"You apparently don't need the team playing either," she muttered. "Or does only Kenley get that privilege?"

He glared at her. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, you know exactly what it means." She pointed to where Whit was sitting nearby. "Don't play stupid, Jack."

He followed Dominique's finger and looked at Whit. Victoire did the same. From where she was sitting, Whit seemed rather puzzled at having been brought into this.

"I really don't have any idea what you're talking about," Jack said, looking back at Dominique. "And I'm really not in the mood."

Dominique ignored him and pushed him aside to stare down Kenley. "Perhaps if you spent a little more time practicing, and a little less time flirting with other people's boyfriends and breaking up relationships, then maybe we'd have won."

"Breaking up relationships?" Kenley asked, looking challenged. "I didn't break up anything. And you know what? Maybe if _you_ hadn't spent so much time sucking face with Henry Davies, then maybe _you_ could have caught the Snitch a little faster instead of accidentally stumbling across just because Giggleswitch over flew his mark!"

"Wait, what's this about Davies?" Louis asked, glancing first at Victoire, then at Sarah. Around the room, several other people were now putting their heads together about what had just been said.

Dominique gaped a little, but rebounded instantly. "At least I'm not breaking up anyone's relationship!"

"I didn't do anything!" Kenley said.

"Yes," Dominique said acidly. "We all saw that out on the pitch. You didn't do a damn thing! That's why we lost!"

"Stop it!" Jack yelled, resorting to a surprisingly authoritative tone. "Stop it! Both of you. For fuck's sake, just stop it."

Dominique and Kenley continued to glare at each other, but Dominique was the first to break eye contact and turn away. "Not even worth my time."

"Bitch," Kenley muttered.

"Home wrecker," Dominique spat right back, just as Louis reached out and grabbed his sister's arm to restrain her. Victoire had to assume—given the events last year when Dominique had fought with Colleen Lynch in this very common room—that he was just bracing himself for what could easily happen.

"Nicki, relax," Victoire began. "Don't let her—"

Jack suddenly forced himself in front of her to confront Dominique. "What the hell are you on about?" he asked in an angry whisper.

"What do you mean, 'what are you on about?'" Dominique asked. "Are you intentionally being thick right now, or did you get hit with a Bludger up there? If you really think that we all don't know the real reason you and Whit split up—"

He looked thunderstruck. "What—?"

"Nic, that's not…" Victoire began to explain, seeing that Dominique had her story a little mixed up. Dominique, however, was already cutting her off.

"Everyone knows, Jack," she said, pointing after Kenley. "Even Whit was saying how you have feelings for her."

In an instant, Jack's face flushed with anger and—what Victoire thought to be—hurt. He turned to look at Whit where she sat. "You've seriously been telling people this?"

It was now Whit's turn to look thunderstruck. "No, I…"

Victoire immediately looked guilty. Though a few people had suspected it, Whit had only ever told her the theories about Kenley. In turn, Victoire realized that she may have let it slip to Dominique, though she hadn't really _meant_ that Jack _did_ have feelings for Kenley. She had just been trying to reinforce the point to Dominique that Jack and Whit were growing apart and the break up was for the better. They were moving on.

"So, I get to be the arsehole?" Jack asked Whit plainly. "Is that it? Does making up stuff like that make you feel better?"

"No, Jack, I didn't…"

"Fine," he mumbled before he turned away towards the boys' dormitory. "I don't even…" He paused and his face grew intensely aggravated. "I don't know what I did, but thanks. Thanks a lot."

With that, he walked off. Up the stairs to the dormitory without another word to anyone; leaving curious stares and one very confused ex-girlfriend in his wake.

Victoire looked at Whit, who had turned and met her with a wide-eyed, slightly horrified stare. She looked upset, as though the last thing she ever wanted to do was have Jack be mad at her. She was already beating herself up enough as it was from the loss of him as her boyfriend. The idea of losing what little friendship that she had managed to salvage from the breakup had to be crushing to her.

"Now, again," Louis said, cutting through the even present tension, "what's this about Davies?"

"Shut up, Louis!" Dominique said as she picked up her Quidditch bag and stormed towards the girls' dormitory.

"It's a long story," said Sarah.

"Wait, is it true?" he asked, but Victoire had ignored him. Whit had already stood from her chair and followed after Dominique towards the stairs.

"Whit, wait!" Victoire said, rushing after her towards their dormitory.

She didn't manage to catch her until they were both back in their room, where Whit was already behind the drawn curtains of her bed. Victoire used one swift pull to draw them back, and found her sitting there hugging her legs, her knees against her face.

"Whit…" Victoire said.

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"He hates me."

"He's going through a lot now, too," Victoire said as she propped herself up on the edge of Whit's bed. "Plus, they just got their arses kicked by a team that was supposed to be rubbish. He was in a terrible mood to begin with."

Whit's eyes looked glassy, but she wasn't crying. The last thing Victoire wanted her to do was cry. "I didn't even…I don't even know what happened."

"Nicki running her big mouth is what happened," Victoire muttered, wishing that her sister could manage to keep private business actually private.

"I don't want him to hate me."

"He's having a bad couple of days," Victoire said. "He'll come around."

"Should I apologize?"

"Maybe in a few days," Victoire suggested. "But right now, just let him fume. The last thing you need is contact with him. Every time you see him, you end up more miserable than you were before."

"It's just so hard," Whit said, burying her face between her knees. "I still care about him."

"I know," Victoire said, reaching out to rub her back in a reassuring manner. "But look, we'll be home for the holidays in just a few days. That'll be good. You won't have to see him, or think about him—"

"That's doubtful."

"I meant you'll have lots of distractions," said Victoire as the thoughts of being home in just a few days time dawned on her. She happened to be very much looking forward to going back. She would be back in her own room in her own bed. She would get to feel her father's warm hugs, and have her mother make her all sorts of delicious holiday favorites. She'd get to sit by the fire and anticipate Christmas festivities, her birthday just a few days later, and Simon's wedding. She could look forward to everyone getting together. She would finally get to see Ted after four of the longest months _ever_…

"A part of me just wants to stay here for the holidays," Whit said suddenly.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," she said. "My family doesn't really do much for Christmas. Dad and Mum are always traveling for work and one of them is almost always away this time of year. Plus, Mum hates the holidays because her brothers were killed in the war for being Muggleborns right around Christmas time." She shrugged. "It's not exactly a happy time."

Victoire frowned.

"Worse yet," she said heavily. "I had made plans with Jack to do the holiday thing with him and his family, but that's obviously not going to happen."

"You two will work things out," Victoire said.

"It's just crap because I'm trying my hardest to move on, and now all I'll be able to think about is this."

"It gets easier."

"When?"

"In time."

Whit made a skeptical face and turned to stare out the window. "I'm just not looking forward to going home. Neither my mum or my dad will be there when I get there, so I know I'm just going to sit there for hours on end and drive myself mad with running this stuff over and over again in my head."

"No, you won't," said Victoire, suddenly making a decision right then and there. "You won't because when we get home, we are going to do something. We will. I'm coming over and providing a distraction."

Whit turned away from the window and met her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Sure," Victoire said brightly. "We can distract each other. I'll help you forget about Jack and you can help me forget that I'm _just_ missing Ted on his way to Russia by a matter of hours."

"He leaves the day we get back?"

Victoire nodded and absently began examining the ends of her hair. "He'll already be in Russia when I get home." She sighed heavily. "But anyway, I'll come over and you can show me more of those movie things, or whatever they're called. You remember? That one time that I came over and you and—" She stopped short of saying Jack, remembering it had been the pair of them who had introduced her to the Muggle hobby. "Um, well, you remember."

Whit continued to smile. "That'd be fun."

"Then it's done," Victoire said as she stood from Whit's bed. "I say we don't even take the train home. Let's just Apparate back. I'll pop by my house, drop my stuff off, and be right over."

Whit considered this for a moment, her mood slowly brightening. "Okay. But, your parents won't mind? They don't have plans for when you get home?"

Victoire smiled. "Not that I know of. They won't care. Trust me, it's not as if I'm missing anything."


	23. Up in a Crawl Space

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And yes, since I've had a few people ask, the name of the story is inspired by the Beatles's song, "Here, There, and Everywhere." I'm a big fan, and, while the title is fitting, I like to think the lyrics are appropriate as well. :) If you haven't heard it, you should. It's a beautiful song. :)

Anyway! One chapter because the next sets of chapters need to be done in pairs. :)

* * *

The Hogwarts Express was due in at five, but Ted had arrived ten minutes early just in case it happened to turn up early. Not that the train had ever not arrived when it wasn't supposed to, but he was feeling optimistic today. He was actually in a surprisingly good mood considering he had to leave for Russia in an hour.

As he stood there on the platform, waiting and biding his time, he began running through a to-do list of things that he'd been putting off. He still had a lot to do for Simon's wedding, which he'd all but put completely on the backburner lately. With Victoire coming home and Russia on the horizon, he had pretty much forgotten that Simon was due to get married in a little less than two weeks at the end of December. All the little tasks he was set to complete still had to be done, and this included finishing up the plans for the stag party on the night before the wedding—just as Simon had requested. Ted hadn't done any of it. He hadn't found the time to swing down to get a dress robe fitted, or worked out any of the other details that needed to get done before New Year's Eve; at this rate, they weren't going to get done until he was well home from Russia.

Luckily for him, Simon didn't seem to have a lot to ask from him...but still, as much as Ted hated weddings, the idea of not living up to all of his best man duties properly didn't sit right with him. After all, he was made the best man for a reason. Simon was counting on him, and here he was being lazy about everything. What kind of best man did that? More like the mediocre man….

Ted shook his head and glanced down the platform. He could only hope that when everything did fall into place—and it eventually would, he told himself—the stag party would live up to all of the expectations Simon had for it. Ted just had to keep telling himself that as long as Simon was happy with the party, and as long as he showed up to the wedding on time, then he'd be fulfilling his job as best man. That's all there was to it...or so he was trying to convince himself.

The sounds of a train approaching the station jarred Ted's attention away from his thoughts of best man duties and forced him to straighten up. He watched as a scarlet steam engine came rolling into view and slowly began lurching to a halt along Platform 9 ¾.

He ran his hand through his hair and brushed off his robes as if they were covered in invisible dust. The second the train had come to a halt, the doors had opened and, within moments, droves of students had begun disembarking the train as quickly as they could. It was hard to tell anyone apart in this crowd, but Ted would just have to keep a keen eye out for any signs of anyone he knew. He had to remind himself that, while seeing Victoire was what he was looking forward to, he couldn't go losing the kids he'd come to pick up in the first place.

Ted only had to wait all of two minutes before he distinctly heard a voice call his name. When he turned, a dark-haired boy of eleven came dashing down platform; through the groups and groups of students who were crowding around to greet their happy families. He was smiling brightly.

"It is you!" yelled Albus the closer he drew.

Ted leaned up against a nearby pole and smiled at him as he approached. "You sound surprised."

"James said Mum wrote him and told him you were going to be here to pick us up, but I thought he was lying."

Ted shook his head. "Nope, I'm really here."

"Excellent!" Albus said, his tone breathless. "I've have the best term! You have to hear about it. I really like Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology, and did you know that Professor Longbottom told me that—oh wait! I have to tell you what this one kid told me about man-eating Piranha Plants! See, they trap you and—"

"Al." Ted laughed and reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Slow down. I can barely keep up."

He smiled sheepishly, but in the in the next moment, his excited energy was already back full-force. "Oh, guess what, Teddy!? I forgot to tell you!"

Ted laughed again and glanced down the platform in search of Victoire. The crowds were getting thicker now, and he didn't want to chance missing her on accident. "What's that?"

"I joined Gobstones Club!"

He smiled. "I heard."

"Who told you?" Albus asked, looking utterly put-off by the idea that he hadn't been the one to break the news.

"Who do you think told me?"

His face fell further. "I wanted to be the one to tell you—"

"Move, Al!" yelled a nearby voice, whose source was currently being obscured by a trolley carrying three trunks. Al jumped out of the way, but it only took Ted a second to peek around the back of the trolley and find James hiding himself from view. He was crouched behind the trunks with his hands on the handle bar, looking as if he was rather enjoying using the trolley as a means to bowl through the crowd.

"What's up, Ted," James said, smiling mischievously upon realizing he'd been spotted.

"Not much, James," Ted said, matching his grin. "Causing trouble, then?"

"Not a lot."

"Oh, well, in that case…"

James laughed and straightened himself out by standing from his crouched position. Instantly, Ted noticed that he'd grown at least three inches since he's last seen him. He was already up past Ted's own shoulder.

"Look at you," Ted said as he stood back to take him in. "You're growing like a weed. You're easily taller than your mum now."

James shrugged. "That's not hard. She's short."

Albus immediately stepped in front of his brother. "Look, I grew a half an inch." He forced his posture rigid, as though an invisible metal rod had just been inserted into his back. "Look. Can you tell?"

"Sure can," Ted said generously, though it seemed Albus was actually using the balls of his feet to bounce his height up a bit. Ted wasn't about to burst his bubble by disagreeing, though. He instead quickly turned his attention back towards the crowded platform to scan the crowds for any signs of Victoire. Lots of students were hugging their families and wishing their friends a happy holiday as they left, but there was no sign of Victoire anywhere amongst them.

"Are you leaving for Russia today?" Albus asked.

Ted nodded, but didn't take his eyes off the platform. "You guys haven't seen your cousin have you?"

"Which one?" James asked obviously.

"There she is," Albus said, pointing through the crowd.

Ted looked to follow where he was pointing, but when little Rosie Weasley's curly brown hair came bustling through the sea of people, he realized he probably should have been a little more specific.

"No, I meant—"

"Hi, Teddy," said Rosie brightly, accompanied by two girls, one of whom immediately tapped Rosie on the shoulder to whisper something in her ear. Rosie laughed and looked at James, as if something was very funny. The girl who had whispered to her immediately giggled and took off down the platform, leaving the third girl looking extremely curious.

"What's so funny?" James asked her.

Rosie shook her head and smiled. "Nothing." She looked back her other friend and smiled wider. "Right?"

The other girl suddenly blushed scarlet and looked down the platform. "I need to find my parents. Happy Christmas." She glanced at James. "Um, bye." She looked back at Albus and Rosie. "Bye."

"Bye," said Rosie and Albus, though James, who only looked to be half paying attention, threw her a lame wave. The girl quickly took off through the crowd, which immediately made Rosie turn back and smile at James.

"I don't even want to know what that was about," Ted said dully, still staring through the crowd for any signs of a blonde head.

"_I _know what it was about," Albus said in a sing-song tone that only a younger brother could perfect.

"No, you don't," James said, rolling his eyes before looking at Rosie. "And you don't either, so stop smiling like that."

"No," she said smugly.

"Whatever," James said, looking bored and turning back towards Ted. "So, why'd you come pick us up?"

"Because, I—"

"You're taking me too, right?" Rosie asked.

"Yeah," Ted said distractedly, having remembered that Ron and Hermione had asked if he could bring Rosie back with the boys. He was still busy searching up and down the platform. "Have any of you seen Victoire?"

Rosie shook her head, though Albus and James quickly laughed.

"You came to see your giiiiirlfriend, didn't you?" Albus asked.

"Yes, I did," Ted mumbled. "If I can find her."

"It's weird you two are together," said James.

"I think it's sweet," said Rosie.

"You think everything is sweet," James muttered.

"I think it's cool," Albus said as he pulled himself up on the edge of the trolley to get a better view of his surrounding. "If you two get married, you'll be in the family for real."

"Are you going to marry her?" James asked.

Ted ignored him and exhaled heavily before checking his watch. It was a ten after five. He'd need at least twenty minutes to a half hour to get the kids to Harry and Ginny's; then at least five more minutes to leave himself enough time to get to the hospital, where he was to meet Durrin and Nate to catch their Portkey. Where on earth was Victoire? He was standing in a spot that offered him an almost unobstructed view of the platform. If she were to walk by, he would see her. There was no way she could slip though the crowd…

"James, stop it," Rosie said suddenly, snapping Ted out of his thoughts and making him glance away from the platform.

"I'm not doing anything," James said with his hand outstretched towards the top trunk on the trolley.

"If you push my trunk off…"

"I'm not," he said with a funny smile. His hand was hovering in such a way that he would literally just have move it forward to knock the top truck—which Ted assumed by her protests, was Rosie's—onto the ground. He seemed to be taunting her with this fact.

"James, whatever you're doing, stop it," Ted mumbled as he bounced on the spot to see if he could see further down the platform. "You're all sure you haven't seen Victoire? At all?"

"I saw her yesterday in the common room," Albus offered. "She helped me with my Potions homework."

Ted stared at him for a long second, though he slowly looked away. "That doesn't help me much, Al."

"Why didn't you bring flowers?" James asked.

"What?"

"Flowers," James repeated. "Shouldn't you be doing something romantic like that? That's what you're supposed to do."

Ted made a face. "Says who?"

"Says everyone."

"You're suddenly the expert?"

James shrugged and looked at Rosie. "Do girls like flowers?"

"It's a rather nice gesture," she said as she pulled herself onto the edge of trolley opposite of Albus to help him search.

James turned back to Ted with a 'told you so' smirk.

"Right," Ted said sarcastically. "I'm going to stand here getting lectured by a twelve-and-a-half-year-old on how to be a proper romantic."

"James has two girls who fancy him," Albus said. "He's pretty good with girls."

"He is not," Rosie muttered. "These girls are just silly and don't realize how annoying he really is--"

James pushed Rosie's trunk onto the ground.

"James!" She gawked at him. "This is what I mean!"

"You called me annoying!"

"Because you are annoying!"

"If anyone standing here is annoying, it would be you, Rosie."

"Pick my truck up!"

"Pick it up, yourself."

Ted—against his better judgment—couldn't help but laugh at the display, even though he knew he probably shouldn't be encouraging their behavior. He turned his attention back towards the platform and noticed that the crowd was starting to thin itself out more and more. Where was Victoire? Did he actually miss her somehow? There was no way…

"Hey, Teddy," Albus said suddenly. "There's Nicki. She might know."

"Yeah," Rosie said as she pointed to down the platform. "Right there. Louis's right behind her."

Ted sidestepped them both to see where they were looking. Sure enough, just down the platform, Dominique and Louis were walking in their direction with several other people in tow. Victoire wasn't among them, though they might have a better idea as to where she was.

"Stay here," Ted said to all three kids, pointing specifically at James. "I mean it."

"Why do I always get that look?" James asked.

"Because you're annoying," Rosie offered.

Ted didn't stick around to listen to round two of James and Rosie's little face off; instead he took off down the platform to meet Dominique and Louis halfway. It didn't take long for Dominique to notice him coming first, and her eyes grew wide the more the recognition sunk it. Both she and her friend stopped when they came face to face with him.

"Ted. What are you…?"

Louis, who had been walking several feet behind Dominique, abruptly walked straight into her while not paying attention. He glanced forward to see what the hold up was, but his reaction changed the moment he took in Ted.

"Ted," he said bluntly. "You're here..."

"Because of Victoire…" Dominique added, throwing Louis a look.

Ted forced a quick smile, having only just remembered that he was now going to be in for a lot of similar surprised reactions from all the people who had been left in the dark by his and Victoire's secret before she'd left. "Hey. Yeah. You don't happen to know where she is, do you?"

Dominique and Louis continued to exchange odd looks before Dominique finally spoke. "I thought you were in Russia?"

"I'm leaving soon," he said, checking his watch. "My Portkey doesn't leave until six, so I thought I'd surprise her by meeting her here." He grinned. "I saw her off. It only makes sense to be here when she gets back."

"Oh, boy…" said Dominique's friend.

"She's going to hate herself…" Dominique mumbled under her breath.

Louis nodded. "She's really not going to be happy when she hears this."

Ted stared at everyone questioningly. "What am I missing here?"

"She's not here," Dominique said with a strange earnestly in her tone. "She didn't take the train home. She went with Whit."

"Yeah, they Apparated to her house," Louis added. "Straight from school. She's probably been back for hours now."

All the excitement in Ted's face drained on the spot. He stared from one Weasley to the other. "She's been home for hours?"

"Probably," Dominique said, just as her friend nudged her and pointed down the platform.

"I have to go," she said. "I see my mum. I'll see you later."

"Oh, bye, Sarah," Dominique said distractedly, but quickly focused back on Ted. "Yeah, I mean, Vic thought you'd already left for Russia."

Ted could feel the disappointment surge up in him as he reached up rubbed his eyes. She had to be kidding. Victoire didn't take the train home? She had been home for hours already? He could have seen her hours ago, and potentially gotten to spend those hours with her? Why hadn't either of them figured that possibility out sooner?

"Rotten luck," Louis mumbled, looking down the platform at something before turning back to his sister. "I'll be back in a second."

"Where are you going?"

"I forgot there was something I needed to ask Sarah."

"What do _you_ have ask Sarah?"

"It's nothing," he said, taking several steps in the direction Sarah had gone. "Don't worry about it. I'll catch up with you in a minute." He grinned sympathetically at Ted. "Sorry, mate. Have fun in Russia."

"Thanks," Ted said lamely, though he looked straight back at Dominique as Louis took off. "She's been home for hours?"

"I don't know that for a fact," she said. "She and Whit may not have even left until hours after the train left Hogsmeade. I didn't care to ask. I just know she didn't take it home and she's with Whit now."

"Shit…" Ted muttered.

"It was a nice attempt," Dominique offered. "If it makes you feel any better, she'll literally kick herself when she hears your were here to see her. She's been moping about not seeing you since she got that letter you sent."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better how, exactly?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

He bit his lip. "You wouldn't happen to know where Whit lives, do you?"

"Didn't we go through this just a few months ago?"

Ted thought back to the night she was referring to. The night he had read the letter Victoire had written about having fallen for him. After he'd read it, she'd gone rushing out into the night to Whit's house and he had sat there for hours waiting for her to return. No one that night had known where Whit lived, and he supposed that shouldn't be any different now. He really needed to find out where this girl lived already…

"So, no one knows?" he mumbled.

"Jack would know," Dominique said, "but he's probably the last person you want to ask right now. Plus," she glanced around, "I think he left already."

"Shit…" Ted repeated.

"Sorry, Ted."

"I should have told her," he said, his tone frustrated and his body tightening with stress. "But I wanted to surprise her."

Dominique forced a smile. "I'll tell her you were here."

"No," he said quickly. "Don't. Like you said, she'll just get upset. Don't bother." He checked watch and realized he needed to get the kids home if he wanted to make sure he had enough time to get to the hospital. "I need to go."

Dominique nodded. "You'll be around after Christmas, though, right?"

He nodded, suddenly realizing that if this surprise had gone terribly wrong, maybe the other one was prone to failure as well. He had to make sure he knew what he was doing— or rather, what Victoire was doing. "Hey, what are you all doing for Christmas Eve?"

She shrugged. "You know what we do. Everyone gets together for the," she held up her fingers to make air quotes, "'Weasley Family Christmas Party.'"

"Who's throwing it this year?"

She looked as if she had to think about that. "Let's see. Who threw it last year?"

"I don't know," he said. "I was in Russia. Harry and Ginny did it the year before last, though."

"Right. That means my grandparents did it last year. And since it goes back to the top after them that makes this year…" She stopped and made a face, as if something had dawned on her. "Oh, bollocks, that means my parents are doing it this year, aren't they?"

Ted smiled. "So, it'll definitely be at your house?"

"Crap," Dominique mumbled. "Mum's going to put me to work…"

"Vic will definitely be there," he said, thinking out loud more than actually addressing her.

She eyed him skeptically. "Why are you even asking? You'll be in Russia, anyway."

He blinked and looked back at her. "Yeah, I know, but, I…" He racked his brain for something to say. "I want to send Vic something. And I want to make sure I know where to send it, and that she'll be there when it arrives."

"What is it?" she asked with a nosy smile.

"It's a surprise," he said, checking his watch once again and realizing he really had to go. "Do me a favor. Tell your sister to make sure she's home on Christmas Eve—" he paused before adding, "to get her present. Don't let her run off to Whit's house."

Dominique shrugged, as if to say she could do that.

"But don't tell her you saw me here, okay? Tell Louis not to mention it, either."

Dominique smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it…"

* * *

On a chair in the hallway on the second floor of her house, Victoire stood reaching up into crawl space that was located just outside of her sister's room. She attempted to reach up inside, but her short stature was certainly working against her at the moment. Her arm just barely grazed the inside of the crawl space.

She sighed and lowered her arms. On her tip toes, she attempted to peer inside of the darkness, but she couldn't see a thing. Not a damn thing. If her parents had hidden anything up there, they sure did a good job of making sure it stayed hidden.

The door to her sister's room opened with slow creak, and Dominique's head poked out. She still looked half asleep, and her short hair—which was now grown out past her ears—was poking out in various directions. She rubbed her eyes and attempted to groggily stare at Victoire.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," Victoire said innocently.

"Vic, you're standing on a chair in the middle of the hallway," she said as she stepped out of her room. "That's not nothing."

"I'm just seeing if maybe Mum and Dad hid anything up there," she said, hopping off the chair. "Christmas presents or the likes." She shrugged. "I'm bored."

"Why not use a Revealing Spell?"

"You know Mum and Dad are cleverer than that."

It took Dominique over a minute in her half-awake sleep state to agree with her, but when she finally did, she glanced up at the crawl space. "Anything up there?"

"I can't tell. I'm too short."

Dominique blinked herself awake before walking over to the chair to prop herself up. She hopped up there herself and began examining what she could within the space.

"You're not any taller than I am," Victoire reminded her.

"It too dark to see anything," she said, ignoring her and squinting through the darkness while on her tiptoes. "There's something in there, though."

"There's lots of stuff in there," Victoire said. "It's a storage space."

"No, but there's a box," she said. "It wasn't there last Christmas when we were looking up here." She paused. "Come to think of it, do you reckon Mum and Dad just realize we always check here and that's why we never find anything?"

Victoire gestured for her to make room on the chair as she, too, hopped back up to see the box in question. Immediately, she saw the dark shape that Dominique had been talking about. It was the size of a hat box, though Victoire couldn't think of anything that could be inside of it. Plus, her parents weren't known for separating presents. They usually stuck all three sets of presents in the same spot.

"I want to know what it is," Victoire said as she and Dominique both jockeyed for positioning on the chair without knocking the other over.

"Maybe they haven't finished shopping yet—"

The door to Louis's room opened just then, and in a state similar to what Dominique had been in moments before, he stared at them both groggily. It had to be a bit strange to have the sight of both of his sisters standing on a chair and searching in the ceiling's crawl space greeting him in the morning.

"I don't even want to know," he mumbled, turning to reenter his room.

"No, Lou, wait!" Victoire said, hopping off the chair. "You're tall enough. You can reach."

"Reach what?"

"There's something in here," Dominique said. "It may be a Christmas present."

Louis's eyes seemed to wake at that. "Yeah? For who?"

"We don't know," Victoire said. "That's why we need you to go and have a look."

He considered this for a moment before he took a few steps towards the chair and gestured for Dominique to get down. When she did, he pulled himself up; his head immediately disappeared into the crawl space.

"Do you see what we're talking about?" Victoire called up to him.

"Do you see anything else up there?" Dominique added. "A new broom, perhaps?"

"Yeah, I see a box," he called back, "but that's it. Oh, wait…Hey, look! I've found my old collection of Chocolate Frog cards. And my old joke kit that Uncle George gave me for my tenth birthday. Remember? I used it to turn Mum's hair purple and she took it away." He laughed. "There's all sorts of shit up here."

"Come on. Pull the box down," Victoire said impatiently.

"You can be nostalgic later, Lou," Dominique muttered, matching Victoire's impatience.

"Hold on, hold on," he said as he reached into the space and pulled down the box. He examined it for a moment before holding it out to the girls. "Jeez, don't get your knickers in a twist."

Dominique took it immediately from him and pulled off the boxt op. Both she and Victoire looked inside to check its contents, but quickly realized it wasn't a present at all. It looked like a collection of junk—various photos and trinkets.

"Oh, I know what this is," Dominique said.

"What?" Victoire asked as she reached inside and pulled out a handful of photograph. The box was full of them, as well as favors, and other various keepsake looking mementos.

"Aunt Gabrielle gave it to Mum while we were in France this summer," she said, handing the box off to Victoire. "She, Nana, and Papa collected all of this for her and Dad for their twentieth wedding anniversary back in August. It's all stuff from their wedding." She reached in and pulled out photos. "See? Pictures, some party favors, and all sorts of stuff."

"Where was I this summer when Aunt Gabrielle gave her this?" Victoire asked. She'd never even seen the box or any of its contents, which, if it had been given to her mother while they were in France, she should have seen. She loved looking at old photos. This sort of thing was right up her alley.

"Probably stuck up your own arse moping about Ted," Dominique offered.

Victoire stopped looking through the box to glare at her sister, but Louis didn't hesitate to laugh. She shot Louis a silencing look also, but quickly returned her attention to the box in her hand.

"Speaking of Ted, did you tell her about yesterday?" Louis asked Dominique.

She shrugged. "I wasn't supposed to."

"You weren't supposed to what?" Victoire asked, not looking up from the box.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you that I saw Ted yesterday," Dominique said without missing a beat. She pointed to Louis. "We both did, that is."

Victoire rolled her eyes. "No, you didn't."

"Okay, fine," she said flatly, turning to walk downstairs. "We didn't. Don't believe us."

"I won't," Victoire said as she put the lid back on the box and shuffled it from one hand to the other in order to maintain a firm grip on it.

"But we did," Louis added as all three of them made their way down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

"Sure you did," Victoire said sarcastically. "And where was this? You two happened to pop by Russia yesterday?"

Louis threw himself into a chair at the kitchen table as Dominique made her way over to the cupboard to search for something. "Nope. We didn't have to."

Victoire smiled, clearly amused at both her brother and sister's attempts to goad her into believing their stupid story. She would have thought better of them. It was far too early for either of them to be this creative.

She set the box she'd carried downstairs onto the kitchen table and put both of her hands on her hips. "All right, I'll bite. Let's hear your story. Where, oh where, did you see Ted?"

Dominique handed Louis a cereal bowl, and he took turns filling both his and her bowls with the cereal she'd retrieved from the cupboard. They glanced at each other before both looking back at Victoire. In unison, they both replied, "King's Cross."

"Wow," she laughed. "That was impressive. Did you two rehearse that?"

"There's nothing to rehearse," Louis said as he poured milk into his cereal.

"We did see him," Dominique added, watching Louis pour and waiting for her turn to use the milk. "He came to see you, but since you weren't there, he missed you."

Victoire's smile faltered. "You two cooked this up yesterday when I was at Whit's, didn't you?"

"Nope," Louis said pointedly. "We cooked it up when we actually saw Ted at King's Cross."

"Vic," said Dominique, "we're not making this up."

Victoire's smile had completely fallen off her face now. "Yes, you are."

Dominique looked at Louis. "Is she denying it because she doesn't believe us, or because she doesn't want to believe us?"

"Probably the latter," he said with his mouth full.

"You're serious?" Victoire said as she gripped at the back of the chair in front of her. "You actually saw Ted?"

"Yes," Dominique said obviously. "He came to see you. He wanted to surprise you. He told me not to tell you because he thought you'd get upset—"

"HE WAS ACTUALLY THERE!?" Victoire yelled.

"—like you are now…"

"He was clearly on to something," Louis said, staring at Victoire with his spoon still held in midair.

Victoire gaped, her chest heaving quickly. She turned away to walk out of the kitchen, only to immediately turn and walk back in. She pulled out a chair to sit down, but stood again a moment later. "He was really there?"

"If I say yes," Louis said tentatively, "you're not going to yell again, are you?"

"I missed him," she said blankly, staring straight ahead into vacant space. "He came to see me and I missed him."

"You would have only gotten to see him for like ten minutes," Dominique offered.

"I thought he'd left already!" she said loudly, her mind reeling. Wasn't he supposed to have left that morning? Didn't he tell her that? Wait…? Had he actually ever mentioned what time he was leaving or had she just assumed that? She couldn't remember.

She could have spent half the day with him yesterday had she known he was still home! Why hadn't she even bothered to suggest that to him? Oh, right, of course, because he was _supposed to be in Russia_! No, the obvious issue here was why _he_ hadn't suggested it. If he knew this, he should have said something.

"Why didn't he say he wasn't leaving until later in the day?" Victoire asked, not addressing anyone in particular.

"Why would he when he obviously thought you'd be on the train," Louis said. "It doesn't get in until late. He clearly thought you'd get in late."

"He knows I can Apparate," she said obviously.

"Yeah, but who doesn't take the train home?" Dominique asked. "It's a fair assumption to make. Everyone does it, whether they can Apparate or not. Plus, by the looks of things, he was trying to surprise you. Why would he tell you what he's doing if he's trying to surprise you?"

"Are you actually mad at him?" Louis asked. "He tried to do something nice and you're mad?"

Victoire was aware that her crossed arms and closed off body language seemed to spell out that she was mad at him. She even secretly wanted to be because it seemed easier to be mad at him rather than blame herself; in all reality though, she was exactly that—mad at herself. Mad that she and Ted couldn't properly communicate over letters, mad that she hadn't taken the train home, but mostly mad that he had been there to see her and she hadn't been there to see him.

Without another word, she stood and marched straight out of the kitchen into the living room. She walked right over to the sofa and angrily plopped between the cushions, sinking into them in the process. In the corner of the room, a lush green Christmas tree stood impeccably decorated in ribbons of scarlet and gold, and bulbs of various colors. Her mother always took extra special care in decorating the tree, much like she did with decorating everything. This year was no exception, especially considering that the family Christmas party was to be held here on Christmas Eve in just a few days time. It was a now established tradition that had started just eight years ago, where each year—in birth order of her father's siblings—whomever it happened to fall on would host everyone for Christmas Eve festivities.

After running through the rotation once, it seemed as though the party had returned to its start this year with her parents; something her mother was all too prepared for. The house was already half decorated with Christmas trinkets, reds and greens, holly, and mistletoe. More ribbons still needed to be hung, and some cleaning upstairs needed to be tended to, but her mother had left those chores to be done later. Even though Christmas Eve was still two days away, she insisted on everything being picture perfect as early as possible.

Victoire sulked as she stared into the Christmas tree. She knew she was beating herself over something she couldn't control one way or the other, but if only she had known....if only Ted had merely suggested…

She shook her head. Kicking herself about things wasn't going to change what had happened. Not to mention, she had spent the day with Whit yesterday anyway, helping her to keep her mind off of Jack. Whit had needed her to be there, but would she have blown her off to see Ted had the opportunity presented itself? Victoire didn't like to think she would, but it had been four months. Whit would have understood…right? Surely, Whit _wouldn't _have felt slighted at Victoire going off to see her boyfriend after she had just ended things with Jack. That wouldn't be rubbing salt in the wound, would it?

"You actually have to ask yourself that?" Victoire muttered out loud, her eyes never leaving the tree. "Some friend you are…"

"Are you talking to yourself?" Dominique asked, carrying the box of wedding items from the crawl space with her.

"I'm thinking out loud."

"So, you're talking to yourself?"

"Shut up," Victoire mumbled. The last thing she needed was her sister being smart.

Dominique sighed and dropped the box onto the coffee table. "You get to see him in a few days."

"I know," she said slowly, still watching the Christmas tree. "I'll get over it."

"If it makes you feel any better, if didn't make him feel any better that you'd be upset about this. Hence the reason I wasn't supposed to tell you."

She made a noncommittal noise.

"Oh, and he wanted me to make sure you're here on Christmas Eve. He's apparently sending you something."

Victoire's ears perked at this. She turned away from the tree. "He is?"

"Apparently," Dominique said. "He made a huge deal about making sure you're where you're supposed to be on Christmas Eve. He wants you to be there to open it or something."

Victoire sat up straighter, her curiosity already getting the better of her. What could he send her he'd need her there to receive it? "Did he say what it was?"

"Oh, yes," she said dryly. "He told me everything in explicit detail. You know Ted. Can't keep his mouth shut."

Victoire rolled her eyes. "A simple yes or no would have sufficed."

"In that case, no."

She looked back at the tree for a moment before quickly rounding back on her sister. "Are you making this up?"

Dominique sat on the floor next to the Christmas tree and began going through the box of wedding mementos, pulling handfuls of photos out and placing them on the table. "Even I'm not that cruel."

Victoire watched her for a moment, scanning her face for any signs of insincerity. When she couldn't find any, she leaned even further back onto the sofa before smiling a little. Ted was sending her something. She couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. Why would he send something when he knew they'd see each other just days later? That seemed odd. Still, he was sending her a present! That was the best news she could have heard short of him telling her he was coming home early.

"What are you getting Ted for Christmas?" Dominique asked as she absently flipped through photos.

That was a good question. Victoire hadn't really thought much about that, though she probably should start working on it, especially if he'd already gotten her something. Her mind pondered the possibilities of what he could be sending her. What if it was the perfect gift? How would she top that? Ted could be oddly creative and romantic when he wanted to be; what if this was one of those times? What would she do if he sent her something amazing and all she had to give him in return was something stupid?

She suddenly had a flashing vision of handing him a pair of socks…okay, perhaps not socks. She wasn't _that_ bad.

She frowned. Ted was nearly impossible to shop for considering most of things he liked he went and got for himself. He was simple in that sense. He didn't really want anything, he didn't really need anything, and he never asked for much. He liked simplicity and hated extravagance. Even the one tangible thing he did really, really enjoy—Wimbourne Wasps Quidditch—he already had an 'in' though her Aunt Ginny to get anything he could ask for. This was going to be hard…

"I have no idea…" Victoire mumbled. "He's so hard to find something for."

"Just buy him about ten boxes of Chocolate Frogs and call it a day," Dominique said as she flipped an upside down photo over to examine it. "He still eats those things like they're going out of business, doesn't he?"

Victoire laughed a little. "He does."

"Then, there you go," she said.

"That can be my Plan B," she said lazily, realizing that she really did have to put some thought into what she would do and quickly. She only had five days.

"Look at Uncle Ron at Mum and Dad's wedding," Dominique said, holding up a photo to show her. "He was so gangly."

"He's still gangly," Victoire said, looking at the photo her sister was holding up of her Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione smiling and dancing; he in dress robes and she in robes in light purple. "They look really cute there."

"They look really young."

"Well, it was twenty years ago," Victoire said as she picked up her own stack of photos to look through. "They were my age there."

"Oh, Merlin's beard," Dominique said, holding out another photo. "Look at Uncle Charlie! And Professor Hagrid, too!"

Victoire reached out to take the photo and immediately burst out laughing. Both her uncle and Hagrid were drunkenly swaying side to side within the photo, bottles raised in their hands and looking as if they were singing something.

"These photos are so much funnier than the ones Mum keeps in the album," Victoire said.

"The one she keeps in her album are all posed and professional looking," Dominique mumbled. "The candids are always better. At least these make it look like people were having fun."

"Uncle Charlie especially, it seems."

"It's a shame things were ruined for them," Dominique said slowly, flipping through more and more photos.

"Yeah," Victoire agreed, just as she came across a photo of her mother and father smiling and waving back at her. They looked so young and happy and full of life. She almost wondered how long it was between this photo being taken and the Death Eaters arriving.

"Aunt Gabrielle looked so cute," Dominique said as she flipped another photo towards Victoire. "She's so young here."

"I always loved the bridesmaid dresses Mum chose," Victoire said, staring at each photo with curious novelty. She had always loved old photos; especially of people she knew. She had looked through her parents' wedding album hundreds of times throughout her life, but, as Dominique had said, those photos were staged and polished looking. To see it like this, through new and more candid photos, it was almost as if she was reliving an entirely new side to the experience. She almost felt like she'd been there.

She flipped another photo—her grandparents smiled back at her. She flipped another—her Aunt Ginny was making funny faces. She flipped another—more of drunk Uncle Charlie. Another—her Uncles George and Fred were doing funny dance steps for a crowd of onlookers. She continued flipping more and more to see all the smiling, laughing faces; some she knew and some she didn't. They all looked as if they were having a wonderful time. Everything looked like so much fun.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stack, she was about to rummage through the box for more photos when she immediately froze on the last picture in the pile. It was…no. Was it? She pulled the picture up to her nose, dropping the other photos she was holding in the process. It was…it actually was. Clear as day.

"I don't believe it," Victoire said.

"What?" Dominique asked, looking up at her.

She turned the photo around to show her sister, but Dominique didn't show any reaction to it. "I don't get it. What's so special about it?"

Victoire smiled and looked back down. "What's so special is how special it really is."


	24. Decorations and Destinations

Christmas Eve was dreary and cold; the kind of weather that made Victoire want to curl up inside of her bed and watch the day pass through a nearby window. A warm blanket, a soft surface, and a set of comfy pajamas were all she needed to make a perfect day…or so she had hoped. She hadn't counted on her mother waking her and her siblings up at eight o'clock that morning to clean and tend to the final details for that evening's Christmas party. A Christmas party that they were already more than prepared for.

"Now," said her mother as she walked about the living room putting the final decorative Christmas touches on every square inch of available space within the room, "I zink I am done wiz zis room." She scanned the walls, the Christmas tree, the shelves. "Do you zink we 'ave enough decorations?"

"More than enough," Louis muttered from the sofa, where he and Dominique were lazily stringing popcorn along a piece of thread. "I think the tree's about to collapse under the weight of its holiday cheer."

"This place looks like Christmas was sick all over it," Dominique muttered.

"Dominique," said her mother sharply, her blue eyes narrowing on her youngest daughter. "'Onestly. Ze zings that come out of your mouz."

"Well, it does…" Dominique said under her breath, glancing across the room at Victoire for some sort of validation.

Victoire half smiled, but made sure that her mother hadn't seen her do it. Her mother was already wound up tightly enough from finalizing everything for that evening's festivities. She didn't want to give her yet another reason to be stressed...even if Dominique didn't seem to mind.

Instead, Victoire returned to watching the feather duster she had charmed to dust the high shelves as it danced around a set of vases. Little poofs of dust came falling to the floor, which were immediately swept into a dust pan that her mother had charmed to rush about the house. It wasn't as if their house wasn't next to immaculate on any normal day, but today it would literally be spotless. Dust, dirt, and grime had absolutely no place to hide from the watchful eye of Fleur Weasley.

"You all know ezactly what you must do for ze rest of ze day?" their mother asked, rounding on all three of her children.

"Yes," all three of them said in mixed unison.

"Good," she said, looking pleased. "I need to start cooking soon. I do wonder 'ow many people to expect. Ze family is coming, some friends, and several people from ze bank were also invited. Ze only problem iz zat more people zan anticipated always come."

"That's true," Louis said as he alternated between stringing popcorn kernels and eating them. "Remember the year Uncle George had it at his house? When he put out that open invitation to all his employees down at the joke shop and about forty extra people turned up?"

"Zat was a nightmare," Fleur muttered. "Angelina and he were certainly not prepared for zat."

"It was a lot of fun, though," Victoire said, pointing her wand at the feather duster and directing it towards the next shelf.

"Yeah, Mum," said Dominique. "Remember, Christmas is all about togetherness. That includes total strangers waltzing into your house, eating all of you food, stealing your presents…"

"Did Uncle George really have someone steal from him?" Victoire asked.

"Yeah," said Louis. "Remember? Someone took half the gifts from under their tree."

"George didn't seem to care, though," Dominique added before she began popping pieces of popcorn into her mouth. "He said something like, 'they must need it more than I do,' or something."

Their mother made a tutting noise as she fidgeted with some of the ribbons on the Christmas tree. "I would never allow zat many strangers into my 'ome. It is one zing if zey are a guest of someone, but just letting anyone in…" She shook her head. "Oh! But speaking of guests, did anyone invite one?"

"We're allowed to invite someone?" Dominique asked. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

"She told us we could three days ago," said Victoire, now facing her. "Perhaps you should try listening?

"Huh?" asked Dominique.

"I said, perhaps you should try—"

Louis laughed. "She didn't get it."

"When does she ever?" Dominique asked, smiling at her sister.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "That joke is older than Merlin, himself."

"And yet, you still fell for it."

"Enough," their mother said without taking her eyes off the Christmas tree. She seemed to be inspecting it for any last minutes changes she may want to make, which suddenly prompted her to reach up and move several of the ornaments around to different branches.

"So," Dominique said, "we can invite people?"

"Of course you are allowed to invite people," said her mother as she picked a pine needle off her robe. "I enjoy seeing your friends." She looked at Victoire. "I would 'ave actually loved to 'ave seen Teddy since I am still _very_ interested in seeing ze two of you togezur."

Victoire forced a small smile.

"I should owl Sarah and see if she can come," Dominique said thoughtfully.

Louis nodded nonchalantly from beside her, as if he thought that was a good idea.

"Whit said she would stop by for a bit," Victoire said once she lowered her wand and watched as the feather duster she'd charmed fell lifeless on the spot. "Just an hour or two, but she is coming."

"We need more popcorn," Louis said to Dominique, gesturing to the empty bowl on the coffee table.

Their mother took her eyes off the tree upon hearing that. "Zat should have been plenty of popcorn."

"You didn't take into account that these two would eat more than they strung," Victoire said.

"It's not a big deal," Dominique said as she stood, gathered the bowl, and flicked the last piece of popcorn she'd been holding at Victoire. "I'll go and make more."

"Not too much!" her mother called after her as Dominique left the room for the kitchen. "Save some for ze popcorn balls zat I still need to make." She sighed. "Which reminds me zat I 'ave to make popcorn balls." She turned back to the tree and ran a hand through her long silvery blond hair. After a brief pause, she refocused her attention on Louis. "And what about you, Louis?"

"What about me, what?"

"Are you planning on inviting anyone?" she asked. "I didn't know if you 'ad a friend in mind. Perhaps a girl?"

Victoire smirked at her brother.

"I hadn't planned on it," he said before he absently picked up his popcorn string and began counting the pieces of popcorn for--what appeared to be--no real reason at all. "I mean, I guess I could see what Jack's up to..."

"You will not," Victoire said immediately. "Not if Whit is coming."

"Well, in that case," he rolled his eyes, "never mind. I don't need to invite anyone, anyway."

"Because you've got Nicki already doing the inviting for you," Victoire mumbled under her breath, throwing him an obvious look.

"You are such a good looking boy," her mother said in a tone that was usually reserved for flourishing compliments. "I am always so surprised zat girls are not always buzzing around you."

Louis put his trademark, charming, 'I can get away with murder if I needed to' smile on for his mother's behalf. "Who says they're not?"

She laughed. "Well, zen I'm surprised you do not 'ave a girlfriend."

"Who says he doesn't," Victoire mumbled.

Louis's smile fell off his face. He glared at her.

"Do you?" their mother asked, looking surprised and pleased at the exact same time.

"I…" He looked at Victoire. If looks could kill, she'd be dead on the spot. She'd actually be deader than dead given the intensity in his eyes. "I— sort of. It's— I don't know."

Their mother's curiosity was more than evident in her expression, but Dominique had taken the moment to walk back into the room just then with a popcorn filled bowl in her hands. She flung another piece at Victoire as she passed her, and giggled when it stuck to the front of her jumper. Victoire, however, was too busy watching her mother and brother to notice or care.

"Who is she?" their mother asked.

"Who's who?" Dominique asked as she settled back next to her brother on the sofa.

Louis had opened his mouth to interject but his mother, as always, was far too quick. "Louis's girlfriend."

"Louis doesn't have a girlfriend," said Dominique.

"Zen who iz zis girl you were speaking of?"

"What girl?" Dominique asked, turning to her brother. "What's she talking about?"

"It's nothing," Louis said, throwing Victoire another death glare. She returned with an apologetic smile. In her defense, she hadn't intended on Dominique making popcorn so quickly.

"Zen why did you say you 'ad one?" their mother asked.

"Jeez," Louis said, his tone aggravated. "It's not a big deal, okay? Can we just drop it?"

"Wait, there is a girl?" Dominique asked with a nosy smile. "Oh, which little tart is it this time, Lou?"

"Dominique…" said their mother.

"Come on. I only speak the truth."

"Hey, Nic, are you inviting your boyfriend?" Louis said in a patronizing tone. "Good old, Davies going to turn up?"

Dominique made a face. "Davies is _not_ my boyfriend."

"Right, sorry," Louis muttered as he aggressively stabbed through a piece of popcorn with the string, breaking it in the process. "I forgot. You just fool around with him all over school. And yet, I date tarts…"

Dominique made motion to slug him in the shoulder, but years of dealing with her hair trigger reactions gave Louis a split-second advantage. He jumped off the sofa just in time to miss her fist as it went sailing into a couch cushion. She jumped up to chase after him.

"Dominique Renee and Louis William!" their mother snapped. "Continue to push my nerves and you 'ad better believe Christmas will be canceled for ze both of you! You can spend your 'oliday in your rooms!"

The both stopped and stared at her.

"You would cancel Christmas?" Dominique asked.

Her mother's face tightened. "Push me and you will see what I can do."

"You'd take our presents back?"

"Or give zem to Victoire."

Victoire smiled. "Really?"

"Victoire doesn't want my new broom," Dominique said.

"Whatever she does not want can go to orphans," their mother said pointedly, looking all together uninterested in dealing with this at the moment. "You are both almost seventeen-years-old, yet you are acting like children."

They both stood shamefaced on the spot. There was always something in their mother's tone that managed to bring out an immediate sense of regret in all of them. Together, Louis and Dominique muttered a tepid, "Sorry, Mum."

"'Onestly, I don't even…" she said, rubbing her head. "Apologize and be done wiz it."

Dominique looked at Louis. If there was one thing Dominique hated more in the world, it was being forced to do something she didn't want to do. And she didn't want to apologize to Louis. "I'm sorry I tried to hit you."

Louis's face was similar to Dominique's, but his fake apologies were always far more convincing. He had a knack for making people actually believe what he was telling them, even when he was spewing complete tripe. "I'm sorry I called you a tart."

The both glanced back at their mother, looking for conformation that they were free and clear from any further reprimand. She waved her hand lazily, but seemed relatively satisfied with what she had seen. "Boz of you go and clean something. I do not want to 'ear any more fighting. Understood?"

"Understood," Louis mumbled, though Dominique merely nodded. Neither said another word as they left, but split into separate directions as they presumably went and found something else to clean…or something to at least pretend to clean.

""Onestly," her mother mumbled, more to herself than for Victoire's benefit.

Victoire forced a smile and picked up the feather duster that was lying idly on the shelf she'd been cleaning. "Anything else you need me to do, Mum?"

She sighed, looking tired even though it was barely noon. "No, sweet'eart, you 'ave been more zan enough help. Whatever iz left, I will just split between your brozer and sister." She smiled a little. "Plus, did you not say you 'ad something you wanted to do?"

"I just need to get Ted's present squared away."

She nodded. "Well, whatever you need to do, you go on. Go finish up before people start arriving."

Victoire glanced in the direction of the kitchen, where she knew her mother still had a load of work cut out for her. "Mum, Ted won't be home for days. I've got plenty of time to work on it. If you need help…"

"You are a sweet girl," Fleur said, turning to kiss Victoire forehead as she passed her towards the kitchen. "I will be fine, zough. Go take care of Teddy's present."

Victoire watched her go before she tapped the handle of the feather duster onto the open palm of her hand. She had a nagging feeling that she should still try to help her mother get ready for the night, but she didn't want to push her luck. If her mother claimed she didn't want help, she usually meant it. Badgering her and acting as if she did need help only tended to grate on her nerves, which Victoire was more than looking to avoid.

She took a deep breath and tossed the feather duster back into a nearby box of cleaning supplies. She knew she should probably be seizing this opportunity to have a little time to herself since, soon enough, almost everyone she knew would be crowding into their not so large house and asking her a million questions about how school was going, what was new, how were she and Ted…That was clearly the night she had in store for her. She might as well enjoy the peace while she could.

She took to the stairs towards her room and in that moment, let her thoughts return solely to Ted. There were only two and a half more days until he was back from Russia, which meant just two and half more days until she could see him, hug him, kiss him, be with him…

She smiled as she imagined that, though anothe thought abruptly knocked that little daydream out of her head. With only two and a half days left, that meant she barely had any time to finish the plans she had for his present. That meant she needed to get to work.

The second she entered her room, the usually neat surroundings now had items and items scattered across the floor. Pieces of parchment, strips of twine, broken quills—they were all part of the construction of Ted's gift. This year, after realizing he was impossible to shop for, she had decided to do something sort of silly for him. With nothing to really buy him, she had to be creative; that had inspired her to make him goofy little coupons that he could redeem with her for all sort of various…things.

They were mostly cute and funny—good for uninterrupted hours of Quidditch, massages, an hour of doing whatever he wanted—though writing, decorating, and putting them all together into a little polished book had proven to be incredibly time consuming. She almost wondered why she bothered with all the extra work, considering Ted would have been just as happy had they been written on the backs of napkins, but she hoped in the end that the final result would be worth it. She hoped he would like it.

And he didn't, there was always Plan B.

Her eyes trailed to her desk as that thought occurred to her, where a second item lay that she had also been anticipating giving him for Christmas. If the coupons turned out to be stupid, there was always this. This was anything but stupid.

* * *

"Who the hell did you have to sleep with to get a Portkey on Christmas Eve?" Durrin asked for the tenth time since Ted had informed him and Nate of the seemingly impossible feet he had managed to pull off. It almost seemed as if neither of them believed it; as if they would literally have to be standing on British soil before they would admit it had all really happened.

Ted shrugged and grinned from his chair in the dining room of their Russian Inn. "I know someone," he said without taking his eyes off of the clock that sat in the middle of the room over top a roaring fireplace. It seemed that every time he came to Russia, he found himself actively watching this clock for one reason or another. Last time it had been to count down the second to his birthday, though today it was to countdown the minutes until his Portkey was due home.

At the present moment, they still had several minutes until their departure, so Ted turned his attention back to old, rustic, wood paneled room that was filled with large oak chairs and tables and blood red carpeting. This inn had certainly seen its fair share of people come through it, though it looked as if the owners had taken very few opportunities to keep the place looking up to date. It wasn't the sort of place Ted would usually find himself in had he had the choice, but he supposed he should just be thankful that the place kept the heat inside and the frigid cold Russian winter out.

Even though it was just after three AM in Moscow, Ted had awoken packed and ready to go an hour earlier than necessary. Back home, it was just after nine PM and still quite early. Everyone he knew would probably be well into the Weasleys' Christmas party, which he hoped to be joining in just fifteen minutes time. If the hands on that clock ever moved…

"I'm seriously not paying any fines if this turns out to be illegal," Nate muttered as he finished packing away the last of the files, documents, and dragon pox trials that the three of them had accumulated over the last few days of their stay. "Not a Knut, Lupin."

"It's legit," Ted said, reassuring him for the fiftieth time. "Look at the ticket." He reached into his pocket just then and pulled out its entire contents—two Galleons, a small brass key, a piece of lint, and a piece of scrap paper, which he handed to Nate. "It's got the Ministry stamp."

"I read it the first time," Nate said, sounding grumpy at having to be up at three A.M., "but you could have forged it."

Ted stuffed his money, key, and lint back into his pocket. "You're starting to sound like Hazel."

"I am not," Nate said, rolling his eyes.

"You sort of are," Durrin said.

Nate threw him a lofty look.

"I guess becoming project leader does that to a person," Ted said to Durrin, pretending as if Nate wasn't sitting beside him. Unlike him, he was in a fantastic mood and had awoken with all the energy in the world.

"Yeah, maybe Hazel's not really mental," Durrin added, catching on to Ted's joke. "Maybe it's the work that makes her the way she it, and now Nate is—"

"You finish that sentence, Adams, and you'll be having a black and blue Christmas," Nate interrupted.

"Hazel would say that, too," Durrin said quickly.

"You and Hazel really are quiet similar, aren't you?" Ted said, pushing his chair back and glancing once more at the clock. Just two more minutes until they would be back in England. He stood up. He had too much energy to be sitting.

Durrin smiled and followed Ted's lead by standing. "They should just accept the fact. Stop fighting it. Go get married already."

Ted made a face. "Can you imagine the kids? They'd been abrasive as all hell. Though, they'd probably be very clever."

"But let's not forget bitchy," Durrin added, not even trying to hide his smile from Nate. "And if they look like Nate, poor little buggers are in for a life of being funny looking."

"Definitely funny looking," Ted agreed.

Nate took thaemoment to stand and throw them both dirty looks. "Had your fun?" He picked up their bean can Portkey and started walking towards the exit. "Keep going and I'll chuck this into Muggle traffic."

"Like hell…" Ted said, grabbing his stuff and chasing after him. "And you'd be stuck here, too, if you did that."

"Oh, come on, Nate," Durrin called after him as he gathered his own things. "We're just having a laugh."

"Yeah," Ted said as they reached the doors leading outside. "Since when did you get so touchy?"

Nate said nothing as all three of them stepped out into the monring, where they were instantly hit head on by a wall of bone chilling arctic cold. Ted immediately wished he would have properly fastened his cloak, but it was less than a minute now until the Portkey was scheduled to depart, so he'd have to tough it out. His body involuntarily shivered as he thought that.

"My folks were so happy to hear I was coming home early," Durrin said as he reached out and grabbed the top of the bean can.

"I told my Mum not get her hopes up," Nate said, gesturing for Ted to take hold of the can. "Only because the guy who told me he'd got a Portkey home," he threw Ted a lofty look, "is a prat."

"You're just saying that because I called you Hazel," Ted said before he grabbed the bottom of the can.

"I know I am."

"Oh, for the love of—"

"One, two, three," said Durrin, watching his watch before a tugging sensation around Ted's navel stopped him from finishing his sentence. The swooping and pulling lasted for all of ten seconds before Ted's feet hit the icy ground beneath him hard. Nate landed beside him, but Durrin fell to the ground several feet away, landing on his backside with a loud thud.

Durrin groaned and curled up into a ball on the ground.

"Nice landing, Durrin," Nate laughed, now extending his hand out to help him out. "You new at this?"

Durrin ignored Nate's hand and continued to groan as he lay on the ground. "That really hurt. I think I re-aggravated an old Quidditch injury in my back. "

"That's why you're supposed to land on your feet instead of your arse," Ted offered, glancing around at their surroundings. At just after nine o'clock in the evening, they were standing in a clearing just to the north of some large Muggle refineries. Beyond that, a small town that he didn't recognize, but was somewhere outside of Glasgow, stood twinkling against the darkness.

"Well, gentleman," said Nate as he hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder. "Happy Christmas and all of that. I'll see you back at the hospital, which, I remind you not to go stopping by until at least the twenty-sixth. They'll put you to work if you do. Enjoy the time off while you've got it."

"I fully intend on avoiding that place for as long as I can," Ted said.

Durrin let out a low groan as he rubbed his backside. "My arse really hurts. I think I broke something. I might _need_ to go to the hospital."

"You would ruin this for us," Nate said, shaking his head.

"Should have left you in Russia," Ted added.

Durrin frowned, but made a face to say he was going to quit complaining. "You're both worse than Hazel," he said before he disappeared the next moment with a quick pop.

Both Ted and Nate exchanged looks before Nate laughed and muttered. "That little shit."

"Notice how he ran the second after he said it," Ted said.

"Yeah, because I'd show him a real pain in the arse if he'd stuck around."

Ted furrowed his brow doubtfully. "Sure you would have."

"I would."

"Right. Of course."

"Don't be smartarse, Lupin."

"Then don't be dumbarse," Ted said as he hitched his own bag over his shoulder.

They both stared at each other for a moment before they equally lost their composure into a fit of strange and sudden laughter. Ted wasn't even sure what was so funny, but something about standing in the dark, in a strange field, in the middle of nowhere while he and Nate took the piss on each other was enough to make him just laugh.

"Ohhhhh," Nate said as he caught his breath. "Seriously though, have a good holiday."

"Yeah, you too," Ted said. "Enjoy seeing your mum."

"I will," Nate said with a slow nod of his head. "Enjoy seeing your family. And your girlfriend."

"I will," Ted said, matching his nod.

"Maybe if you get laid, you'll be less of a wanker," Nate suggested, laughing before he disappeared with a small pop; leaving Ted alone in the field.

"Prat," Ted mumbled before begrudging a smile against his better judgment. Leave it to Nate to always have to get the last jab in. Always. Ted would never win that battle, as much as he tried. He almost had to wonder what it would be like to work with normal, thoughtful, considerate people. Then again, where was the fun in that? At least the group he was stuck with kept him on his toes.

With a small pop of his own, Ted vanished from the strange field and reappeared outside of his flat. He didn't even bother entering; instead he just opened his door and threw his things through the doorway before shutting the door behind him. A moment later, he Apparated on the spot to the outskirts of Tinworth, just outside of a house he was all too familiar with.

He stood on the lawn for a moment, the sea breeze kicking up his hair as he took in the cottage house that sat before him. The lights were on inside and the shadows of people moving about within the house reaffirmed that he was in the right place. Clearly, there was a party going on.

Fidgeting anxiously with his hair, he began walking up the slope incline of the lawn. Why hadn't he even bothered to check what he looked like before he got here? It was the first time he got to see his girlfriend in months and for all her knew he had something hanging off his face or a boogie in his nose.

He wiped under his nose for good measure.

With a deep breath, he approached the front of the house right as a strange onset of nerves suddenly hit him. He was actually nervous. Sure, he was excited, too, but still uncharacteristically nervous. He couldn't even explain to himself why he was so anxious to walk in there, but the obvious reason—facing Victoire's entire family for the first time together—wasn't what was plaguing him. No, he actually felt tenser about seeing her. What if things were different? Four months was a long time…what if things had changed?

He shook his head. "Nothing's changed," he mumbled to himself as he reached the front door. With one last reassuring breath, he reached up to knock.


	25. The Jumper Fiasco

"This is really good," Whit said as she bit into a popcorn ball in the Weasleys' kitchen on the evening of Christmas Ever, where she and Victoire stood leaning against the cluttered counter space that contained dishes upon dishes of food. "Everything your mum makes is really good."

Victoire watched her, smiling slightly given Whit's genuine enthusiasm over buttered kernels of popcorn. "Yeah, my mum's a fantastic cook. You should come over one night when she makes her bouillabaisse. It's amazing."

"I just might," Whit said, closing her eyes to savor her popcorn ball.

Victoire laughed, but took the opportunity to glance right outside of the kitchen's entrance and out into the foyer of her house. Slowly but surely, the place had begun to fill with family and friends of her parents, all of whom had clamored in with various food items or little presents to share. Victoire had already run through the gauntlet of questions once from most of her uncles and aunts about school, life, and Ted, but they all now seemed happily content to have moved onto to other conversations and groups. At the moment, Louis and Dominique—both of whom were now sitting in the living room being interrogated by Uncle Percy about their O.W.L. scores—were now front and center.

Granted, it was always lovely to get everyone over for Christmas, but at the same time, Victoire was thankful for the opportunity to escape for a bit. Unfortunately, with a family as large as hers, escaping was no easy task, so taking any opportunity she could get—even if it was just for a few minutes in the kitchen on the pretense that she was helping Whit while she found herself some snacks—was welcomed.

"In the kitchen!" said the loud voice of her grandmother all of a sudden. In the next second, the shape of a stout woman with graying, red hair appeared in the kitchen amidst a sudden crowd of Victoire's own cousins. The children had all followed her from somewhere, though Victoire wasn't sure why they were all clamoring into the kitchen at this very moment.

She stood back to watch as they all piled inside; her grandmother leading the way. With a quick smile to Victoire, her grandmother gestured to the kitchen table and told everyone to have a seat if they wanted their gifts, adding, "Quickly now!" as though the presents may some how vanish if someone dawdled.

Albus Potter and Freddie Weasley were at the front of the pack, grabbing the first available seats at the table. Behind them, Hugo Weasley had rushed to grab the third chair, while Percy's youngest daughter, Lucy, had grabbed the fourth. The last remaining chair was snatched up by a proud looking Roxanne Weasley, whose smile seemed to almost gloat that she had received the last sought after chair.

The children that remained were left chair-less. Rosie Weasley seemed aggravated at the rushing that had commenced and left her without a place to sit, while Lily Potter simply nudged Lucy to scoot over and share her chair. Standing at the back of the crowd, Percy's other daughter—fourteen-year-old, Molly—seemed to be trying to distance herself from the younger group; the look on her face seemingly saying that she was far too mature to fighting over table space with children. It was a sentiment that James Potter seemed to be echoing as well, or so Victoire thought after he walked over to lean against the counter she was currently resting against.

"Okay," her grandmother began, looking around at all the faces, "is that everyone?"

"Everyone but Louis and Nicki," Victoire said.

"Oh, well, I suppose wrangling up everyone would have been difficult," she said with a shrug, just as their grandfather happened to walk into the kitchen holding several parcels. Behind him, Victoire's Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron carried in a few more; each dumping their armloads off in the center of the kitchen table.

"There's one for each of you!" their grandmother said, "so don't fight over—"

It was too late. Hands from various sources began flying at the pile in the middle of the table, each grabbing one parcel for themselves at random. It then only took a second for a present to be identified as not belonging to the person who had originally grabbed it, to which it was then dutifully tossed back into the pile and replaced by another.

"That's mine!"

"No, it's not!"

"Give it to me!"

"Yours is over there!"

"Where's mine?"

"What on earth…?" Whit whispered to Victoire.

"It's a Weasley Family Christmas," Victoire said with a small smile. "This is why we never get together on Christmas Day. Can you imagine all of this only with triple the amounts of gifts?" She made a face. "I'd be lucky to make it out alive."

Whit shook her head, but continued to nibble on the end of her popcorn ball.

"Here we are," said Hermione, who had appeared with two mangled looking presents in her hands; both looking as if they were lucky to have survived the struggle at all. "For James," she handed a blue wrapped present to James, "and the other for Victoire."

"Gee, I wonder what this is," Victoire joked, pretending to be completely unaware of the jumper that her grandmother had made her—and all of her family—every year at Christmas. This would be the eighteenth one she would receive—the first one having been made for her before she had even been born. They were always purple and most of the time they had a large letter V on them, though, for the last few years, the V had been replaced by stars. The ones with stars were easier to wear than the one with the giant V, but the jumper still rarely ever saw the light of day if she could help it. She did sleep in them occasionally, if it was particularly cold out.

"It's a jumper," James said dully, staring down at his still wrapped gift. "It's always a jumper."

Victoire grinned at him. The rest of the room were all pulling out their own jumpers, each a particular color and most branded with a corresponding letter to the owner's name. Lucy and Lily were the only two who had pulled theirs over their heads, though that was after they had decided to trade each other. Hugo and Rosie were both currently feigning polite surprise for their grandmother's benefit—something Hermione was smiling at—and Victoire could hear Albus whisper, "Another one?" to Freddie.

"Oh, Happy Christmas everyone!" their grandmother said warmly before she walked around kissing the tops of heads and distributing hugs. A chorus of 'thank you' and 'Happy Christmas' followed her sentiments, and Victoire took the opportunity to open her own gift wrapped package. Sure enough, inside sat her tired and true purple jumper, a collage of yellow stars covering the various parts of it.

"Oh, very nice," Hermione said, observing Victoire. "Purple's a very pretty color on you."

Victoire threw her a funny smile. She knew exactly what her aunt was trying to do, though the effort would probably be less wasted on one of the younger cousins who may actually wear theirs. Still, she smiled politely as she observed it. "I do like purple."

Hermione smiled before she stopped and gestured to James. "Why haven't you opened yours?"

He shrugged. "Because I already know what it is."

She frowned. "James…"

"What?" he asked. "It's a navy blue jumper with the letter J on it. I have eleven other ones at home that look just like it."

Hermione's face grew stern. "James, honestly, it's Christmas. Don't start."

He looked at his aunt curiously; seemingly unsure of what exactly he was starting.

Victoire glanced between the two. She saw where both were coming from, of course. Hermione wanted James, just like her children, to accept the gift graciously, even if it was the exact same thing he received every year. James, however, was at an age where being blunt and looking cool trumped faking enthusiasm over a gift he really wasn't keen on. She could relate to how he felt, having remembered the same thoughts running through her own head when she had been his age. Still, she had always managed to suck it up and force a smile.

Under Hermione's stern gaze, James reached out and indolently unwrapped his gift, revealing a navy blue jumper just as he had described. He didn't pick it up off the counter, but rather gestured to it for his aunt's benefit.

"Told you."

Hermione sighed. "It really is a lovely jumper. You should be appreciative."

"I am," James said. "I appreciate Grams's hard work, but I still don't want to wear it."

"But why not?"

At this, James looked at Victoire. "For the same reason she doesn't. Or that most of us don't."

Victoire cringed. Don't bring her into this.

"Why don't you kids wear them?" Hermione asked, though her question was directed at Victoire. She had a look in her eyes that seemed to say, '_You know, Victoire, as the oldest, you're setting an example for the rest of them' _that always made Victoire feel guilty.

Hermione turned at Whit. "They're very nice, aren't they?"

Whit, who had just bitten off a mouthful of popcorn, seemed surprised by the question. She swallowed quickly. "Um, yes, very nice."

"I don't know," said Victoire, searching her head for an excuse other than they weren't her style. "They're a little itchy."

James nodded immediately. "Yeah, they're _really_ itchy."

"Honestly," Hermione muttered, right as Lily appeared by her side in her own sweater to help herself to a popcorn ball. Hermione gestured to her. "Look, James, your sister is wearing hers."

"Of course _Lily_ is," he said in a tone that all but screamed, '_because Lily is a brown-noser.'_

"And Hugo and Rose are—" Hermione stopped when she turned around to see Hugo and Rose standing several feet away, both of their jumpers gripped casually at their sides, but certainly not on either of them. Her face grew concerned. "Hugo. Rose. Why aren't you wearing your jumpers?"

Both of her children stopped to look at her before they exchanged looks between themselves.

"Um," Hugo said. "I didn't want to right now?"

Hermione gaped. Victoire noticed James was trying not to laugh beside her.

"Mum, it's hot in here," Rose said, glancing at the jumper and then back at her mother.

"But your grandmother made those for you."

"But that doesn't make it any less hot in here," said Hugo.

"Hermione," said Ron, who until this point had been silently helping to pick up discarded wrapping paper around the kitchen table. "They don't have to if they don't want to."

"But, Ron," she said, "your mother—"

"I know, I know," he said as he disposed of wrapping paper into the rubbish bin. "But it was hard pressed to get me to wear one back in the day. I'd be a hypocrite if I told them they _had_ to wear theirs."

"Fine," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders and pretending as if the issue was thus decided upon. "Don't wear it. What does it matter? Even if your grandmother put hours of time into—"

Hugo sighed and began pulling his jumper over his head.

"—making these very thoughtful gifts for you all, but yet—"

Rose began pulling her jumper over her head.

"—you can't even put them on for a few hours just to make your grandmother happy."

At that, even Victoire began to feel guilty and ungrateful. She pulled her own jumper over her head and blinked as she looked down at the purple and yellow that clashed drastically against the green, Christmas appropriate skirt she had been wearing. She looked at James, who was still standing idly beside her at the counter. She nudged him in the arm to follow suit, but he shot her a look that said, _'You've got to be joking.'_

"Just do it," Victoire whispered.

"Oh, Merlin's baggy Y fronts," James muttered, pulling his jumper over his head and messing up his hair in the process. He immediately crossed his arms over his chest in a huff. Lily didn't even attempt to hide her laughter from him.

"Look how nice everyone looks!" said Hermione, her mood instantly pleased. "How lovely."

From behind her back, Ron threw up his hands in surrender, just as George and his wife, Angelina, had entered the kitchen carrying in trash from the other room. George immediately made an obvious attempt to stop and look around the room at all the jumpers.

"How festive," he joked, not at all hiding his amusement. "Just what you all asked for, I'm sure."

"I've always thought the jumpers were sweet," said Angelina, walking over to where Victoire stood to examine hers. "I never got anything homemade like this."

"You weren't poor," said George.

"Oh, come on, George…" said Angelina.

"What?" George said, looking at Ron. "Were we not poor?"

"We were poor," Ron quipped.

Both Angelina and Hermione rolled their eyes, though Hermione said nothing more before she wasted no time in abandoning the conversation for the other room. Victoire, too, thought the opportunity presented a perfect opportunity to excuse herself and quickly nudged Whit.

"Are you done with those?" she asked, pointing to the popcorn balls.

Whit smiled sheepishly after she'd finished her fifth, but nodded.

"Come on, let's go upstairs for a bit," Victoire said, gesturing towards the adjacent room. After the jumper fiasco that she'd just stood through, she could use the peace and quiet of her bedroom.

"They're really not that bad," Angelina said as she continued to observe Victoire's jumper. "I know it's not exactly your first choice in presents…"

"Well, that's obvious," George said as he used his wand to flatten down the rubbish in the bin in order to make room. "It's no one's first choice. Victoire here probably wants some nice clothes or some pretty perfume or something."

Angelina made a face. "Is that really what you think girls automatically want, George?"

"Uncle George, not all girls want that stuff," Lily said pointedly.

"Exactly," Angelina said, looking at Victoire. "Is that what you wanted for Christmas, Vicki?"

Truth be told, Victoire wouldn't have _minded _if she got any of that stuff, but she knew the point her aunt was trying to make and she agreed with it. "Not really." She paused briefly and thought about what she did want most, but only the image of Ted popped into her head. "But then again, all I want for Christmas is Ted to be in the same country I am, so," she shrugged, "I might be the wrong person to ask."

"Aww," said Lily, a small giggle escaping her.

Angelina smiled at Victoire, which Victoire returned before beckoning to Whit to follow after her out of the room. Out in the foyer, both girls maneuvered around the small groups of people who had positioned themselves in various spots around the house and made their way towards the stairs.

"Do you all of know these people?" Whit asked as she took to climbing the stairs.

"I know some of them," Victoire said absently, glancing behind her to all the faces down below before climbing the rest of the way towards her room. Once inside, she walked straight to her bed and plopped herself down in an exhausted heap, where her gaze went right to a black spot that marked the ceiling above her head. With an overdramatic sigh, she mumbled, "Welcome to a Weasley Family Christmas."

"Aw, it's cute," said Whit as she pushed Victoire's legs aside to make room to sit on the bed beside her. "It's better than what I'd be doing."

Victoire lifted her head off her pillow to look at her. "Why? What happens during a Whitter Christmas Eve?"

"Nothing, really," Whit said, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at the ceiling. "We might have extra pudding with dinner, but that's about it."

"Right about now, dinner with extra pudding sounds ideal."

Whit smiled. "Well, I'm still glad I came. Thanks for inviting me."

"Thanks for coming and giving me a distraction."

"You're the one giving me the distraction," she mumbled, though she quickly buried her head into her hands as she said it. "Ug, I hate myself for even thinking about this."

Victoire arched her eyebrow, unsure of what Whit was even talking about.

"It's just…I was supposed to spend tonight with Jack originally, so…" She trailed off, seemingly aggravated with herself for admitting it. "I can't help but wonder, 'what if?' What would I be doing now if I were there?"

"Whit, you just split up. You're allowed to think and talk about him."

"Yeah, but I just feel bad because it's always you I'm dumping it all on. You have to be sick of hearing about."

Victoire laughed a little as she put her arm behind her head. "As I've told you a million and one times before, you put up with me and my Ted drama earlier in the year, so I really do owe it to you."

Whit shrugged lamely, but didn't say anything more on the matter. She instead glanced over at Victoire's desk, where the coupons she'd been constructing for Ted's present lay in various pieces—still unfinished. The project still had a good day's worth of work left on it, but Victoire knew she had all of tomorrow to do it. Christmas in her house was always a perfectly lazy day. Just the way she liked it.

"Haven't finished yet?" Whit asked as she picked up the first few coupons and began flipping through them.

"Almost," Victoire said, sitting up to watch her. "Not too much left to do, but I've been taking my time."

"Only two more days until he's back," Whit said in a sing-song tone.

"A day and a half," Victoire corrected, smiling as she lay back down. "Which cannot come fast enou—" She stopped and glanced back at Whit. "Never mind."

"What?" asked Whit, looking up from the coupons. "Why never mind?"

Victoire hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to say, "_because you're still obviously sore about your recent breakup, and talking about how much I miss my boyfriend would be tactless_," so she shrugged instead.

"I don't care," Whit said, as if reading her thoughts. "If that's you're worried about. It doesn't bother me."

Victoire raised her eyebrow skeptically.

"Really," she said quickly. "If anything, it takes my mind of my own problems and reminds me that happy relationships do still exist."

Victoire wasn't sure she was being entirely truthful about that, but regardless, she still mustered a meek, little smile. "I'm really excited to see him."

"As you should be," Whit said, looking back down at the coupons in her hand and reading the top one over. "Do you two have any exciting plans for while you're home?" She held up the top coupon. "Well, that is, besides honoring this?"

"What's that one?"

"Good for an hour massage," Whit read. "He should enjoy that."

"He better," Victoire laughed, reaching up to scratch her nose. "But as far as other plans go, I told you how my friend Simon's wedding is happening on New Years Eve, so there's that. It'll be an actual outing for me and Ted, so that'll be nice." She looked back at Whit. "We didn't get to do much if that before."

"What about your birthday?"

"Then there's that," Victoire said, thinking about how she'd be eighteen in just a few days time. "That's the day before the wedding, so I'm not sure what the plan is since I haven't talked to Ted or my family about it. I don't want anything big like last year, but just want something small and simple." She pulled herself up to sit again. "Which reminds me, you should come over."

"Just let me know what's going on after you talk to Ted," Whit said, still flipping aimlessly through the various coupons in her hand.

Victoire nodded. "And I guess that's really it." She shrugged. "I'm sure Ted will have to work, so I'd just like to fit in whatever free time I can to see him. I just hope my parents aren't ridiculous about things, like, forbidding me to go over to his flat. That sort of thing."

"Even if they do," Whit said, "it's not like you won't find some time alone with him." She reached down and patted Victoire's leg, as if mocking serious reassurance. "Don't worry, Vic, you'll find a way to fool around."

Victoire laughed again as she hit the pillow with a dull thud. "I sure hope so."

"Listen to you," Whit said before she returned her gaze back to the coupon stack she was holding. "Let's see…is there one in here for that?"

"For fooling around?" Victoire asked. "There's one that says he get an hour to do whatever he wants. I didn't get specific."

"You should make these benefit you just as much as they benefit him," Whit said, stopping on one coupon to flip it over to see if anything was on the back. "For all you know, he'll take that hour to have you help him clean his flat."

"He wouldn't."

"But why risk it when you can just as easily make it say, '_Good for one hour of snogging and anything it may lead to._'?"

Victoire considered that for a moment before she pulled herself up onto her elbows. "I rather like that, actually."

"Good, because I'm writing it down," said Whit, reaching behind her towards the desk in search of a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment. "In fact, I think you should give him a few of those. We can put in small print underneath, '_can and should extend one hour time limit._'"

"Can and should…" Victoire repeated to herself, laughing as she said it. "Brilliant."

"I'm telling you," Whit said, jotting something quickly down onto the sheet of parchment, "these should be just as fun for you." She paused for a moment to hold up the new coupon, though she quickly lowered it back down to the pile. "Speaking of anything it may lead to..." her voice dropped dramatically, "have you thought about whether or not you plan on taking the next step? You know…" She made an obvious face.

She was clearly talking about sex.

Victoire glanced towards her open bedroom door before she fished around in her pocket for her wand. When she got it in her hands, she pointed it towards doorway and watched as the door slammed itself shut. "You obviously know I've been thinking about it."

"And?"

She shrugged. "And, I guess I'll just see where things go. I don't know what's going to happen.

Whit held up the coupons with a silly grin on her face. "You could…"

"Oh, please," Victoire said sarcastically. "What will it say? '_Good for taking my virginity? Valid only once._'?"

Whit immediately reached for more parchment. "I'm writing that down."

"You are not!" Victoire said as she sat up and plucked the quill from her hand.

"That would be funny!" Whit said, sounding entirely too amused by the prospect. "Can you imagine his face?"

"Yes, and that's what's embarrassing," she said, shaking her head.

"Why would it be embarrassing?" Whit asked. "Don't you want to do it? You've been giving me the impression that you do."

Victoire looked away, blushing ever so slightly and cracking the faintest of smiles. "I…I'm not against the idea of it, obviously, but," she gestured to the coupons, "that's not the way I want to go about it."

"Well then, how do you plan on going about it?"

She shrugged and let herself fall back onto her pillow. "I don't know…"

"You're allowed to simply admit you want to do it, you know. There's no rule saying you have to covertly go about pretending like you don't."

"You don't say?" Victoire said sarcastically.

"I'm just saying that if you want to have sex, you're going to have sex," she said obviously. "You've told me countless times that the decision is up to you. That Ted's waiting for you."

Victoire stared at Whit, though she could feel her cheeks pinkening, knowing that they most likely now matched the pastel pillowcase she was currently laying her head on. With one swift movement, she reached under her head and pulled her pillow over her face, shielding herself from Whit's now interrogative gaze.

"Fine," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I want to. Happy?"

"I'm more amused, actually."

"I don't even know how to go about it," Victoire said, pulling the pillow up momentarily to peek out one side.

"It's all pretty natural," Whit said. "You just sort of go with it. Ted's got experience doing it, so he'll—"

Victoire completely whipped the pillow off her face. "Yeah, he's got experience doing it with _two _people! Did I ever tell you that?"

"Two?" Whit asked curiously. "Where'd the second one come from?"

"Some girl from the hospital," she muttered. "A one night stand. I didn't ask anything more than that." She made a face and dropped the pillow back down on her head.

"Okay, well, he's done it with two people," she said. "He's got just that much more experience. He'll hopefully know what he's doing."

Victoire considered that for very long a moment and didn't answer right away. "Do I just tell him I want to, or do I just let it happen?"

"I think it should probably be talked about. I mean, that's the mature thing to do. As I've learned--" she suddenly made a face, "the hard way, mind you, that if you're too embarrassed to talk about it with that person, you probably shouldn't be having it."

"You and Jack didn't talk about it?"

Whit rolled her eyes. "No. But remember, that was when things were getting weird between us. The fact that I felt weird even talking about it with him probably should have been the first sign that I wasn't ready, but," she sighed, "I can't take it back now."

Victoire puckered her lips in thought and ran through the differences between Jack and Whit, and she and Ted. Obviously, the biggest difference was that they were now split up and she and Ted weren't, but they had also made it months further into their relationship. Four months into Jack and Whit's relationship, they will still happy like she and Ted were…

"Look, Jack and I are completely different from Ted and you," she said, dropping the remaining coupons she was holding down onto the bed. "You want to do it for the right reasons, where as I," she shook her head, "did it for the wrong ones. That's probably why I didn't really enjoy it when it happened. As much as I still care about Jack, that wasn't something I was ready for. It ended up being weird, and awkward, and— it hurt."

"How bad did it hurt?" Victoire asked, pulling the pillow off of her face once more.

"It wasn't horrible or anything, but it was just uncomfortable. Like weird pressure down there."

"Oh, well, that sounds lovely…"

"Yeah, but once it's done, it's suppose to get better. I wouldn't know since Jack and I only did it the once, but there's got to be a reason everyone always speaks so highly of it."

Victoire snorted a laugh. "True. People wouldn't try so hard to have it if there wasn't."

"People wouldn't have one night stands with random strangers if there wasn't something to it."

"_Ted_ wouldn't have one night stands if there wasn't something to it," she mumbled.

Whit stretched her legs out. "Does that bother you?"

Victoire sighed and sat up before she began running her hands through her hair. "It does and it doesn't. I don't really care, but at the same time, as much as I say I don't want to know who it is, I secretly do." She shrugged. "I'm not losing sleep over it, though."

"It's not worth it," Whit said as she stared drumming her fingers on the bed. "Plus, I'm sure there's stuff Ted doesn't know about you, right? Everyone's entitled to some secrets. Especially if they're insignificant."

Victoire shrugged again. "I guess there's stuff he doesn't know about me. I mean, he's never once asked about anything about my past when it comes to boys."

"Probably because he was there for it. Doesn't he already know—?"

"He was barely there for it," Victoire corrected. "He and I weren't even on speaking terms when I was with Dave for all those months. She screwed her face into thought. "I mean, he knows who I went out with, but that's about the extent of it. We never talked about it back then, let alone now." She laughed a little. "You know, I'd almost stage a guess that he thinks he's the first guy I've seen naked."

Whit smirked, looking a little surprised to her that herself. "Really? Dave?"

Victoire expression turned obvious, as if questioning why Whit even had to ask that question. "Who else would it have been? I don't exactly have a huge pool of boys in my past to choose from. Unless you think I'm wandering the school looking for naked boys."

"No, I mean, obviously it had to be…" Whit started to laugh, realizing how what she had said could have been taken. "I just never thought about it."

"And I'd bet Ted hasn't either, which," she shrugged, "like you said, there's no point now. It's an insignificant part of my past." She looked up at the ceiling. "You know, speaking of Dave, I heard he's with Elizabeth Cole now."

"Really?"

"That's what I heard."

Whit seemed to consider that match. "They'd make a really cute couple, actually."

Victoire nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. They've been friends for awhile."

Whit nodded thoughtfully, but her expression quickly changed to something far more amused. "So," she said in a subject changing tone, "you and Ted are going to—?"

"I don't know," Victoire said, smiling a little. "I just think we might. I have to talk to him."

"Just don't over think it too much—"

Whit was interrupted by a knock at the door, which a moment later was opened by someone who hadn't bothered to wait for a response. Victoire hastily threw her pillow down over her coupons in case her mother happened to walk in, but breathed a sigh of relief when Dominique poked her head through the small door crack. "There you two are."

"We're hiding," Victoire said. "What's up?"

Dominique shook her head and stepped inside. She was now wearing a lumpy looking orange jumper with little Snitches emblazoned all over it. Behind her, Louis and Sarah were standing in the hallway, talking amongst themselves. "We were going to down to my room to listen to some of the Nymph Chaser's box set that Sarah brought over. I guess her parents let her open it early."

"She got the box set?" Whit asked.

"Louis's got to be foaming at the mouth," Victoire said. "He's been asking for that for ages."

"Yeah, he's keen to listen to it, which is why were going to." Dominique half rolled her eyes. "I swear, those two," she gestured out to Louis and Sarah, "are the most ridiculous fans of that band that I know. I'm almost tired of listening to them get together and blah, blah, blah about how brilliant they are and whatever they ramble about:. It's like they've got their own little two member super fan club."

Victoire glanced at Whit, who was now sharing her tiny grin. They both had the good sense to try and hide it from Dominique, though.

Dominique pointed down to her room. "Anyway, we figured we'd escape the madness downstairs. You two want to come?"

Victoire once again looked at Whit, who shrugged as if to say, "_why not?_" She turned back to Dominique and nodded. "Might as well." She threw her feet onto the ground and took another long look at Dominique's jumper. "You ran into Aunt Hermione, didn't you?"

"Huh?"

Victoire gestured to her own jumper. "She made you put on your jumper, right?"

"No," Dominique said, looking puzzled. "I put it on after Grams gave it to me. I love these things. I can't understand why so many of you think they're ugly."

Victoire smiled. "Why does that not surprise me?"

**A/N: Well, I can only keep Ted at the door for so long (unless I blow him up as some of you seem to think I'm going to do, lol...oh, the theories I've heard) so I think it's safe to say that you're getting a reunion next chapter. :) **


	26. Surprise

Ted reached up to knock, but just as he did, the door swung inward and away from him. Several people he didn't recognize were exiting from the house, completely oblivious to his presence just beyond the doorway. He tried to move out of the way, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid a collision. Before he knew what had happened, a man had stepped directly forward, crushing his foot.

"So sorry," said the man in a posh sounding accent. He smelled like eggnog.

"It's okay," muttered Ted, hovering his sore foot just off the ground in an attempt to keep it from further harm.

The stranger said nothing more as he passed, but Ted took the opportunity to side step his way further into the house. Things were far more crowded than he expected them to be, though there were a few familiar faces in the crowd. Among them, Percy Weasley, Victoire's uncle, was standing just to the inside of the door talking to some official looking man with no hair and a rather shiny bald head. Beyond him and towards the living room, Ted could just make out Bill Weasley talking and laughing with a group of people Ted didn't recognize. It seemed Bill was in a good mood, which was always reassuring thing to see.

All around the house, people were crowded around in small groups, laughing and chatting. Some seemed buzzed off of Christmas cheer, while other seemed buzzed off what Ted could only assume was alcohol. He scanned the crowd for Victoire, but didn't see anyone that even resembled her in the crowd. Then again, it seemed that everyone who was mingling around the living room was a bit older. Even Victoire's siblings and cousins were no where to be seen.

As his eyes darted around the faces in the living room, he spotted Ginny on the far side talking with Ron and Hermione. They hadn't noticed him, which, at the moment, he considered a good thing. He could say hi later; after he'd found the person in the house he was most keen to find.

With a turn towards the kitchen, he awkwardly moved around a group of people talking animatedly about Goblin Labor Law as if it were some hot button issue. He'd made his way halfway past when a flash of red hair—dashing by him at waist level—caught his attention. He stopped to get a better look, feeling as though he'd recognize that head anywhere. Sure enough, with candy cane in her mouth and look of purpose on her face, Lily was hurriedly passing by on her way to somewhere.

"Lil," he said eagerly, trying to grab her attention.

Lily stopped and turned towards her name. She was in an oversized, lumpy, red jumper that fell just to her knees; the letter "L" monogrammed across the front. When she saw that it was him who had called, her jaw dropped and the candy cane she'd be sucking on fell to the floor.

He smiled at her. "Hey."

"Teddy!" she said, immediately running over to hug him. "You weren't supposed to be back until Boxing Day! What are you doing here?"

"I came back early." He knelt down to her level. "It was a surprise. I didn't tell anyone. What are you up to?"

She shook her head.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Around," she said, gesturing in a circle around the room. "Dad's in the kitchen, Mum's in there," she pointed to the living room, "James and Al are outside, I think. Everyone else is somewhere."

"Everyone else is somewhere," he repeated fondly. "Got it. Have you seen Victoire?"

Her eyes went wide. "Are you here to surprise Victoire?"

He smiled.

"That's so romantic!" Lily said, grinning from ear to ear. "She doesn't even know you're here. I heard her telling Aunt Angelina earlier that what she wanted for Christmas was for you to be here."

Ted laughed. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Aunt Angelina asked her what she wanted and Vicki said, 'All I want is for Ted to be in the same country as I am.'"

Something inside of Ted jumped a little at hearing that. His smile grew wider as he glanced around the room once more before settling back on Lily. "So, have you seen her?"

"I think she's upstairs."

He looked up the stairs, where he could just make out the second story landing. "All right, well I'm going to go find her." He gave Lily a small squeeze on the shoulder before a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Hey, how do I look?"

She smiled. "Very clean. Plus," she leaned in and sniffed him, "you smell nice."

"Yeah?" Ted sniffed his clothes. They smelled like a mixture of oak wood and the coffee he'd been drinking before his Portkey left. He wasn't sure if he'd consider it 'nice,' but it wasn't wretched either.

Lily nodded. "You smell warm."

"Warm doesn't have a smell."

"Everything has a smell, Teddy," she said matter-of-factly, smiling as she gave him an overly palpable good luck wink. Without another word, she turned and disappeared back amongst the room full of people, presumably heading to where ever it was she had been going before Ted had stopped her.

Ted stood back up. He didn't know which way to turn, but he assumed that going up was the best place to start. The direct path to the stairs was blocked by people, so he went the long way around the room and towards the kitchen in order to get though the crowd. He had just maneuvered his way past Percy's wife, Audrey, when out of the kitchen came Harry and his own grandmother. They both looked to be heading towards the living room, and had Ted not stopped to look at them, they may have very well continued walking.

"Teddy?" said his grandmother, looking fairly shocked to see him standing there. "What are you…? You're back?"

"Yeah, I just got in," he said, acting as if this was no big deal. "I don't even think I've been back in the country for more than ten minutes."

His grandmother stared at him for another moment; her thunderstruck expression still attempting to make sense of what she was seeing. Once she did finally begin to gauge things, she smiled.

"You actually managed to get the Portkey home," Harry said with a proud smile. "Good for you. The kids will be thrilled."

"Yeah, I just saw Lily," Ted said, pointing where he'd seen her last. "Simon ended up coming through for me."

"Hey, I'll have you know that I did ask around," Harry added. "But like I said, Edgecombe doesn't like me much, so…" He shrugged. "It seems you have things under control, though."

"Look at you," said his grandmother, stepping forward and adjusting the way his collar sat against his neck. "I swear, Teddy, I'm convinced you lose more and more weight every time I see you. They work you entirely too hard. You are eating, aren't you?"

"Yes…" Ted said languidly, being all too used to his grandmother's comments these days. It seemed the older and older she got, the less and less she seemed to think Ted was taking care of himself. "And I've weighed the exact same weight for years now. I'm not losing weight."

"He looks fine to me," Harry shrugged.

"Oh, you know damn well he looks like he needs to eat," said his grandmother.

"I don't know," Harry added. "Both his parents were just a skinny, so he's got it in his genes to--"

His grandmother gave Harry a sharp look. "I'm well aware of how his parents looked and how his genes are." She looked back at Ted. "He must get it from Remus because Dora was never rail thin like this."

Harry looked as if he wasn't sure he agreed with that, but said nothing to argue the fact. He actually looked like he wanted to laugh a little.

"Well, Fleur's made lots of lovely things," his grandmother added, pointing behind her into the kitchen. "Be sure to get some."

Ted sighed. "I will…"

His grandmother stepped forward to give him a hug. "And it's lovely to see you and have you home, dear. Happy Christmas."

He smiled and hugged her back. "Happy Christmas, Grams."

"I don't know where everyone is," said Harry said, moving the conversation along. "I'm fairly sure the boys are up to something out in the cold and— oh, but that's probably not who you're looking for, now is it?" He took a look around the room. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Victoire lately. But she's here somewhere."

"That's what I've been told," Ted said, glancing up the stairs.

"Does she even know you're back?" Harry asked.

Ted shook his head slowly. "It's sort of a surprise."

"Well, aren't you sweet," said his grandmother, a small smile appearing on her face. "I never thought I'd see the day— come to think of it, I still haven't seen the day. Where is she? I haven't even seen the pair of you together yet."

"Oh, come on, Dromeda," Harry said, throwing Ted a sympathetic look. "Ted hasn't seen her in months. I'm sure he'd like to catch up with her before we all set in on them like a bush of Piranhas Plants." He looked back at Ted. "Which, if you don't know what those are, give Albus a minute and he'll tell you alllllllll about them."

Ted laughed.

"Well, then go catch up!" said his grandmother. "Then come find me because I would like to see you and her. I think it's only right for me to properly see my grandson and his girlfriend."

"I think a few people would like to see them," Harry said, gesturing for Ted to go while he could. "I can't promise that I can hold them off for long, but I _think _the older kids are upstairs." He pointed up. "Fair warning," he glanced at Ted's grandmother, "the entire party will probably know you're here in about two minutes. So, go now."

Ted threw Harry an appreciative smile and quickly took his advice by turning towards the stairs. As he reached the first step, he checked himself in the reflection of the nearby picture frame that hung on the wall. With a heavy breath, he ascended the stairs just as his excited nerves began to kick up again. All he wanted to do was see her, and hold her, and kiss her, and…he just wanted her.

He reached the top landing and noticed Victoire's bedroom door was closed. Down the hall, Dominique's door was wide open. From the sound of things, laughter and the voice of someone—he'd guess Dominique—was shouting.

"He's not my boyfriend!" said the voice as it traveled out in the hallway.

Ted glanced at the open doorway, but hesitated. He was tempted to knock on Victoire's door just to check if she was in there, but it was then that the unmistakable sound of her voice flowed out of her sister's room.

"It's hilarious how mad you get when someone says that. Makes me think you do fancy him."

Ted smiled before he even knew he was doing it. Just hearing her voice after the prolonged four month absence gave something inside of him a start. He took a step toward Dominique's room before he wavered and wondered how exactly he was supposed to this. Did he just poke his head in and say, "Surprise?" That seemed rather stupid.

But, there was really no other way of doing it, though. He stared at the open doorway before telling himself to just do it; just walk straight in and say hi. The faster he did it, the quicker he could finally put these months of separation behind him.

He took a step forward, just as laughter poured once more out of the bedroom. This time, it was followed by Dominique saying, "I hate you all," though much louder and clearer than it had been before. It was almost as if she was standing right there beside him instead of—

"I'm going to go and smuggle another piece of Bûche de Noël away from downstairs," Dominique said as she suddenly appeared in the hallway, a mere foot away from Ted. He stepped back out of reflex, even though she was still looking into her room and took no immediate notice of him. "Feel free to keep talking about me while I'm gone since I know I'm _clearly_ the most interesting thing any of you have going for you."

Ted watched as she laughed to herself before he readied himself for what was about to happen. It was just a matter of seconds before she turned and saw him standing there staring back at her. He almost had the good sense to take another step back to avoid startling her, but by the time that thought occurred to him, Dominique was already turning.

She stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on him. She didn't jump or look startled, but rather her jaw dropped open and then quickly shut. She didn't say a word.

"Hi," Ted said awkwardly.

She blinked. "You."

"Me."

She lowered her voice. "Is this turning up randomly to surprise her thing going to become a habit?"

"I'm not really sure."

She laughed a little, though her voice remained low. "You're a prize idiot. You knew all along you were coming home tonight, didn't you? That's why you were so keen to find out all the details of where Victoire would be."

He smiled. "You got me."

"I should have figured that out," she said slowly. "You wanted to send her something…" She laughed. "I knew that sounded stupid."

"I had to make it up. You put me on the spot."

"You're rubbish on the spot, then."

"Then stop putting me on it."

She laughed again, but looked away from him and towards the floor. "She has no idea."

"Good." He smiled. "That was the point."

Dominique managed a small, albeit, strange smile. It almost seemed like she was genuinely impressed; perhaps even a little moved by the idea. That would be a surprising feat in itself, considering she usually felt gestures in any romantic proportion were ridiculous and contrived. "She's going to go mental."

He continued to grin. "She's in there?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "she in there with Lou, Whit, and Sarah." She laughed again. "She's going to go mental."

Ted rubbed his face quickly and took a quick breath. He made a gesture to step towards the door, but Dominique suddenly put her hand out and held him back.

"Hold on," she said, looking up at him. "We've got to set this up properly."

He made a face. "Nicki, it's been months. I just want to see her."

"Exactly," she said matter-of-factly. "It's been months. Thirty more seconds won't kill you." She gestured to her room. "Just give me thirty seconds. And make sure you listen, okay?" With that, she turned and walked straight back into her bedroom.

Ted watched her go, suddenly wondering if agreeing to play whatever Dominique's idea of a game was would turn out to be a good idea. He wasn't sure what would be worse—agreeing to play or not agreeing to play. Knowing Dominique, the ramifications of either option could be just as bad.

It was too late now, though. She was already back in her room and he was left to wait and see what happened. He sighed and leaned up against the nearest wall, listening as he'd been instructed to and mentally counting the seconds.

"I thought you went to get more of that chocolate Yule log thingy?" he heard a girl ask, though he couldn't place the voice.

Ted didn't hear what Dominique said, but instead stared up at the ceiling; then back down towards the floor. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it had to be more than thirty seconds. It felt like thirty minutes.

"Vic, I've got a surprise for you," he heard Dominique finally say. "It's straight from Russia."

"It's here?" Victoire asked in an excited sounding tone that made Ted involuntarily smile. "Where?"

"Wait!" said Dominique. "Don't go out there yet. You have a wait."

"Get off it, Nicki. I just want to see it."

"Hold on!" Dominique said, sounding as if she was attempting to keep Victoire from leaving the room. "It's got instructions. You've got close your eyes."

"What? Why?"

"Would you just do it, already?"

"This is stupid…"

"You're wasting time."

"I just don't see why I have to—"

"Would you stop fighting this and close your eyes!"

"Fine!"

Ted laughed.

"I want to what the hell this is," said Louis.

"Go ahead," Dominique said. "It's in the hallway." She paused. "_You, _however, just stand there and don't move."

Ted could hear Victoire let out a frustrated sigh, but at that exact moment, Louis's head poked out in the hallway and looked right at him. Ted smiled and threw him a lazy wave.

Louis laughed loudly.

"What?" asked another voice that Ted didn't immediately recognize. A moment later, a fair haired girl, who he'd met only a handful of times and just vaguely recalled was called Sarah, appeared beside Louis. The look on her face clearly said that she recognized who he was, though. "Oh, wow…"

"Can I just see it already!?' Victoire asked, her impatience clearly growing. "Why is Louis laughing? Are you doing something to me?"

"Be patient," Dominique said as her head reappeared in the hallway beside the other two and gestured to Ted to come on. "And we're not doing anything to you."

Ted shot Dominique a look that begged to ask, _"Really?"_

She smiled and shrugged at him. "Let me have my fun."

"Maybe this is fun for you…" Victoire said dryly.

"I wasn't talking to you," Dominique said. "Are your eyes still closed?"

Ted entered the cluttered room, where an unmade bed sat in the corner and posters of Quidditch players and wizard rock bands covered every inch of the walls. From the bed, Whit—who was sitting just beyond where Victoire stood facing away from him in the middle of the room—immediately covered her mouth as she put the pieces of what was happening together. She made a noise that sounded like a muffled mixture of a squeal and a gasp.

"What is it?" Victoire asked, playing off Whit's reaction.

Ted was literally standing just behind her now. Even just seeing the back of her head sent a bolt of anticipatory excitement through him. The second he was close enough to catch a whiff of her hair he couldn't keep this game up any longer.

Victoire sighed. "Is anyone going to say something? Why am I still standing here like an idiot with my eyes closed—?"

Ted leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I was about to ask the same question."

She had turned in around in a flash, her eyes wide and her face looking as though she almost didn't believe what was actually happening. In the seconds it did take her to finally put everything together, her face went through at least four different emotions. From shock, to disbelief, to confusion, and finally to—what Ted hoped was—elation.

"Ted!" she screamed, backing up slightly from having been startled. In the next second, she had stepped back forward was now throwing her arms around his neck to hug him tightly.

"Hi," he said, putting his arms around her waist picked her up off the ground. As he did, he caught sight of Whit staring at them with an overjoyed smile on her face. From the doorway, Louis started a slow clap.

Victoire pulled away slightly, but left her arms around his neck. She stared up at him. "I can't believe…" She hugged him again, burying her face into his chest.

"I really wanted to see you," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "I really, really, really, wanted to see you."

"Get a room," Louis joked.

"One that's not mine," Dominique added.

"Trust me, I absolutely would if I could," Victoire said, still sounding slightly dazed as she smiled up at Ted.

Louis groaned. "I didn't need to hear that…"

"Out," Dominique said, pointing towards the door. "I'm not taking any chances here. Victoire's room is down the hall."

"How long have you known?" Victoire asked, wasting no time in taking Ted's hand and leading him out and back into the hallway. "When did you find out you'd be getting back early?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

She stopped and pushed him fairly hard. Hard enough that it forced him to take a step back. "You knew about this for weeks and you didn't tell me?!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he said. "So…" He smiled a little. "Surprise."

Victoire looked like she wanted to at least pretend to be mad, but just couldn't bring herself to act on it. She simply started at him, trying to force her face to look cross, but fighting a losing battle against smiling.

Ted reached out and pulled her towards him. "I tired to surprise you the other day at King's Cross, but that didn't work."

"I know. I heard."

"Wait. They told you…" Ted's head snapped in the direction of where Dominique and Louis had followed them out of the bedroom. Given their expressions, they had evidently just heard what had been said.

"I really want Bûche de Noël now," Dominique said hurriedly, taking off towards the stairs.

"Oh. Yeah. Me too," Louis added awkwardly, following after his sister before all but ushering her and Sarah out of Ted's line of sight. Ted could hear him whispering, "Go, go, go."

"So much for not saying anything," Ted muttered once he settled his gaze back on Victoire. She looked so cute and perfect standing there smiling back at him. It almost made the four month separation worth it if the distance made him this much crazier about her when he did get to see her.

"I'm going to go," said Whit, who Ted had only just remember was still standing only a few feet away.

"Oh," Victoire said, turning to her. "Whit, you don't have to…"

"Yes. I do," she said, throwing Victoire a funny smile before turning it on to Ted, "Happy Christmas. Both of you." She looked at Victoire. "Though, I'm sure it already is."

Victoire smiled, though there seemed to be some sort of silent understanding going on between the girls that Ted didn't bother to question. He just waited for Whit to take to the stairs and completely disappear before he excitedly grabbed Victoire around the waist and pulled her off the ground to hug her again.

"You have no idea how excited I am to see you," Victoire said, returning her arms to the position around his neck.

"Yes, I do," he said before he put her back down. "Trust me, I do."

"I just can't believe…" She trailed off and smiled from ear to ear before she began absently playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

He took the moment to enjoy the silence between them; to enjoy that they didn't even need to talk to know what the other was already thinking or feeling. A simple exchange of looks, a few smiles, and the touch of her hand on the back of his neck already said more than any words could.

He smiled as he let his eyes drift down to the jumper she was currently wearing. It was on of Molly Weasley's trademark Christmas gifts, just as Lily had been wearing. In the years he'd known Victoire, he'd never actually seen her put it on. He had assumed she avoided that at all costs.

"Nice jumper."

She looked down instantly, as though she'd forgotten she'd even had it on. "Oh, damn…" She immediately reached down to pull it off; her cheeks now pinker as she pulled it over her head. "I wasn't supposed to be wearing this of all things when I saw you again."

"You look cute."

"Please…" She threw the jumper a dirty look before taking the few steps towards her room, where she opened the door to enter. Ted made motion to follow her, but she had stopped abruptly on the threshold and blocked the entrance. She hastily tossed the jumper inside before slamming the door shut and rounding on him as if she'd done something she wasn't supposed to do.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's…nothing," she said. "You just can't go in there. I just remembered."

He smirked a little and glanced towards the stairs. "Will your parents kill me if they even find me up here?"

"Oh," she said, looking preoccupied. "No, that's not what I meant. I just…your Christmas present is in there. I haven't finished it yet. I didn't expect you back so soon."

"You made me something?"

"Maybe…" she said, pinning herself back against her bedroom door, as if protecting it.

He grinned. "Vic, I won't go in if you don't want me to."

"I know you won't," she said matter-of-factly. "You couldn't even if you wanted to. I'd kick your arse first."

He slowly smiled. "Yeah? Is that a promise?" He took a step closer and put his hands on her waist.

She matched his smile. "If you want it to be."

"It's been four months," he said, lowering his voice to a barely audible whisper as he leaned into kiss her. "You know damn well—"

Someone nearby cleared their throat.

Their lips hadn't even touched, but both heads turned towards the stairs. Standing at the top was Bill Weasley, staring back at the two of them and leaning casually against the banister. Ted immediately dropped his hands and took a step away from Victoire.

"Hi, Dad," Victoire muttered as she straightened up her posture and stepped away from the door.

"The party's downstairs, Vic," Bill said before glancing at Ted. "Nice to see you, Ted."

"You too, Bill," he said awkwardly.

"I heard you were in Russia."

"I, um, got home early."

"How nice," he said dryly, nodding his head towards the stairs. "There are a lot of people down here who would love to see you both. You should come say hello."

They both nodded, and Ted made a point of taking a step towards the stairs. The second Bill had turned his back on them to lead the way down, Ted looked back and threw Victoire a "_what can we do?"_ shrug.

"I suppose getting a bit of privacy is a bit much to ask for," Victoire whispered once she caught up to Ted.

"It is under my roof," said Bill.


	27. Under Roof

"Isn't it so sweet?" asked Angelina Weasley, currently the fourth person to have uttered that exact phrase over the last hour. She, along with George, Ginny, and Ted's grandmother, were all standing just off to the side of the Weasleys' living room, glancing over to the sofa that Ted was currently sitting next to Victoire on. They all seemed greatly amused as they watched the pair of them. Everyone seemed greatly amused…

Victoire looked at Ted, her expression optimistic. "At least everyone's getting it out of their system at once."

He forced a smile. "I suppose that's an upside."

She smiled softly and patted his leg, letting her hand lay there for an extra moment. As if on cue, both he and she found themselves staring at it. Ted didn't know what Victoire was currently thinking, but if it was anything like what he was running though his mind at the moment, then she had two thoughts occurring to her: the first being that he _didn't want_ her hand to move because he thoroughly enjoyed the closeness and the affection. The second being that he _needed_ her to move her hand because her entire family was congregated around the room eyeing them with looks of curious novelty. Not to mention that he wasn't sure where Bill was at the moment…

Victoire retracted her hand awkwardly, almost as if she was removing it from a hot surface. Ted didn't have to look at her to know that she was feeling aggravated. Not necessarily with him, he sensed, but him shooting her quick looks insinuating that perhaps they tone things down a bit around her family probably weren't helping her mood. They sure as hell weren't helping his.

It wasn't as if he didn't want her to touch him. He wanted it more than anything, but—he looked around the room—everyone seemed to be watching their every move. Every single move. Earlier, he had put his hand on her back to let her go first through the crowd, and Roxie and Lucy Weasley had started giggling like mad, pointing the gesture out to everyone within earshot. Then later, Victoire had tried to hold his hand, but that had resulted in Albus making a public declaration that he couldn't see why people wanted to hold each other hands. Most of room had then, of course, looked directly at them, and Victoire and he had both dropped their hands to their own respective sides. Every time they so much as got within a half inch of each other, somone where there to make some sort of comment.

Victoire sighed and fidgeted in her seat beside him. Ted cast a glance at her and saw she was quietly observing everyone in the room in a bored manner. She really did look exceptionally pretty tonight, though Ted couldn't pinpoint why. It was probably because he hadn't seen her in months, but the longer sat there staring at her profile, the less he started to care about what everyone else thought.

He reached around and put his arm around her. Not snugly, and he was resting it more on the back of the sofa than he was her, but it was a step in the right direction. It caught her attention at least. She looked back at it and smiled a little.

"Tell me that everyone staring at us is as strange as I think it is," she said.

"It's as strange as you think it is."

"They're driving you mad, aren't they?"

"Little bit," he said, lowering his voice. "Oddly enough, I'm in a room full of people I enjoy, respect, and love, and at the moment, I don't want anything to do with any of them."

She hummed as if she understood.

"Well, I take that back," he said, looking at her. "I want something to do with one of them."

She continued to smile at him. "My dad, right?"

"Guess again."

She pretended to think about that as Hugo Weasley came dashing by to grab at a bowl of candy that was settled on the table in front of them. He started stuffing his pockets with sweets, looking as if he intended on emptying the entire thing.

"Hugo?" she joked, gesturing to him.

Ted shook his head.

"Well, this is hard," she said, leaning her head back against his arm to continue pretending to ponder the question. Her eyes suddenly focused as if she'd had something dawn on her. "Oh, of course….Harry."

"That's usually a safe answer," Ted said, lowering his arm so that it was now actually on her shoulders instead of the couch. "Not this time, though."

She laughed a little and continued to let her head rest against his arm; the familiarity of the gesture feeling like a welcomed release. "Do you remember the night at the World Cup? After everything had happened? How when we went back to my camp, we had to sit there around my family acting like nothing had happened?"

"Yeah."

"I remember I was just sitting there wanting to kiss you, or just touch you, or do something, but I couldn't because everyone was watching. I had to restrain myself, you know?"

He nodded.

"That's how I feel now."

Ted cracked a half smile. "That about sums it up."

"And maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we hadn't just gone so many months without seeing each other." She looked up at him. "But all I want to do is go somewhere where we can be alone. Even for five minutes."

Ted puled a doubtful face. "I want more than five. I'm telling you that right now."

Victoire laughed, right as her mother appeared in the room to refill the candy dish on the table that Hugo had cleaned out. Victoire immediately lifted her head off Ted's arm at the sight of her, and they both watched as Fleur meticulously filled the bowl to the brim with Chocoballs candies. When she finally did look up at the pair of them, she smiled, but didn't say a word. She only turned and made her way back out of the room.

"She's being strangely quiet about things," Victoire said as she watched her go. "Usually my dad's the one who's less vocal, but this time it's her."

"Maybe she likes me," Ted offered, smiling a little. "It'd be nice to have one of your parents on my side."

"My dad likes you, Ted. He's not against you."

"Your dad isn't against me as long as he doesn't find me up against you," he corrected. "The second he does…" He stopped and mimicked stunning himself.

"You're so overdramatic," Victoire said. "I'll have you know..." She paused briefly and looked at him. "Do you know what he told my mum?"

"Detailed plans he'd learned during the war of how to dispose of a body?"

She ignored him. "He told her that when he talked to you for the first time, after we'd gotten together, that you scared him."

Ted cocked his eyebrow. "How's that?"

"Because he said that you'd somehow managed to convince him that you were in love with me and that you were serious about us. Apparently, that scared him a bit."

Ted blinked and looked down at his hand, trying to remember what had transpired that day. What had he said to make Bill realize that? "Really?"

She nodded.

"I don't even remember what I said."

"Whatever it was, it had to be pretty good."

"Well, I am pretty good," he joked.

"You don't have to tell me that. "She smiled as she said that, now staring him in the eyes and looking as if she had no plans to break eye contact anytime soon. He stared back, his smile growing more and more the long he did. He wasn't about to be the one to let the intensity of the moment disappear by looking away. After all, there were worse ways to spend an evening than staring into two of the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen.

"I really wish we were somewhere else," he said finally, "because I really want to kiss you right now."

"Well, there are only about twelve people now watching us," she joked, aimlessly gesturing around the room. "Those are better numbers than earlier."

He continued to stare at her. "I'm this close to not caring who sees it." He finally looked away. "Hell, I'm about this close to charging for tickets given all the people who keep staring."

"We'd probably make a bit of money," said Victoire, right as Dominique came walking into the room and looked directly at them. She gave the room a quick once over, as though she was looking for something in particular, but instead made a beeline towards where they sat.

"You two haven't seen each other in months and you're sitting on the sofa playing house?" she asked.

"Well, we tried shagging out in the garden," Victoire said sarcastically, "but it was too cold outside."

"Yes, it's really hard to get it up when you can't feel you extremities," Ted added with a straight face.

Victoire smiled at him, though Dominique shook head as if she couldn't be bothered by either of them. "Have you seen Sarah?"

Victoire shook her head. "Not recently."

"It's like she's vanished," she muttered, turning on the spot without another word and walking back across the living room.

"She might want to check wherever Louis is," Victoire mumbled. "She should start by looking underneath him."

"Oh, _really_?" Ted asked.

"With all the focus on us, it wouldn't surprise me if he took that opportunity for all he could."

Ted hummed a little. "Good for him."

"He and Sarah have been together for months," she added. "It's not exactly like he pulled her on a whim."

"Still…" He shrugged. "He's upstairs probably having a fantastic time, and we're—as Nicki said—downstairs on the sofa playing house. As far as I'm concerned, he's in the enviable position."

Victoire swatted him on the arm, though her face seemed to say that she agreed with him once all things were considered.

"Teddy! Victoire!" yelled a small sounding voice that had just run up in front of them. It was Lily, who, along with Lucy and Roxie in tow, were now all smiling at him.

"Yes?" Ted asked.

"I need to ask you something," she said, her tone all together different and strange. He knew that tone. She was plotting something.

He quickly looked back at Victoire, who was watching the girls as curiously as he was, before settling his gaze back on Lily. "Okay, go ahead."

"I can't ask you over here. I need to ask you over there," she said, gesturing across the room.

"Why over—?"

She hadn't even waited for him to finish before she'd dashed off in the direction she had indicated. Roxie and Lucy had both giggled before following after her.

"She needs to ask me over there…" Ted muttered to Victoire. "Why does this not look good for me?"

"Because little girls are evil masterminds?"

"Victoire!" Roxie suddenly called. "You need to come, too!"

"Oh, lovely," Victoire said, a wry smile crawling across her face as she stood from the sofa. "Shall we play along?"

Ted leaned forward to look around her, where all three girls were now looking back at them with anticipation written all over their face. "Do we have to?"

"Might as well."

He sighed as he stood up beside her. "Just remember that this was your idea."

"Duly noted," she said, putting her hand on his back and giving him a small push in the direction of where the girls were standing in the entrance way of the living room, blocking any through traffic. At that same moment, Ginny and Harry appeared from the opposite room, looking as though they were attempting to get into the living room.

"What on earth…?" asked Ginny, just Ted and Victoire reached the entrance way. Both she and Harry had stopped to stare at why there was a sudden crowd accumulating.

"Girls, why are you all just standing here?" Harry asked, looking at Ted for a possible explanation.

"No reason," Lily said, attempting to sound innocent, though failing miserably.

"If there's no reason," said Ginny, "then let's move so people don't trip over you."

Lily seemed to have barely heard her; instead she now smiling at Ted and Victoire.

"What's up, Lil?" Ted asked, glancing quickly at Ginny, then Harry, then settling on her. "What did you want to ask me?"

She took a step back and used her finger to beckon him a step further. "Over here. Victoire needs to come, too."

"Lily, what are you—?" Harry began, though Ted found it easier to just play along with her peculiar request. He stepped towards her, but she immediately held up her hands and signaled for him to stop.

"Don't move!" she yelled.

Ted furrowed his brow and exchanged yet another quick look with Harry, who, along with Ginny, seemed all too curious as to what their daughter was playing at. In fact, Lily's yelling had caught the attention of several people around the room, all of whom were now looking to see what was going on.

"Lil, why can't I move?" Ted finally asked.

"That would be why," Victoire said, pointing up above his head. When he followed her finger, he saw that Lily had very purposely stationed him under the mistletoe. When he looked back at her, she—along with Lucy and Roxie—were grinning madly.

"You have to kiss her," Roxie said obviously, pointing at Victoire. "It's the rule."

"It is the rule," Lily added.

Ted looked at Victoire, who was busy looking around the room at the few faces that were now paying attention to the display; her mother among them. She settled her gaze lastly on him.

"It's the rule," Lily repeated, as if they needed reminding.

"Yes, I get that, Lil," Ted said hastily, suddenly wondering if it was possible for the him and Victoire to be made into anymore of a spectacle that evening.

"Oh, how sweet!" said Molly Weasley. "Now, where is the camera?"

"Oh, not a chance…" Victoire muttered under her breath. In a flash of an instant, she quickly stood up on her tiptoes and planted a small peck right on Ted's cheek. She rounded back on the room once she was done. "And there you have it. Show's over."

"That didn't count!" Lucy argued.

"Oh, yes, it did," Victoire said, taking Ted by the hand and pulling him towards the kitchen without a second's hesitation.

Ted could hear Roxie's protest of, "They were supposed to kiss on the lips!" as he let himself be pulled away, but he didn't stop to see what followed next. He instead followed Victoire, who didn't stop pulling his arm until she had reached the side door of the kitchen that led to the back garden. Once there, she reached for her cloak and pulled it off the nearby hook.

"My cloak's in the other room," Ted said, pointing behind him once he realized that she had every intention of going outside.

She didn't answer him right away, but instead reached for another cloak on the hook. She sized him up before handing it to him. "Louis's old one will fit you." She pulled open the kitchen door and let the icy night air pour in.

Just feeling the chill on his skin wasn't about to make Ted debate with her about whether Louis's cloak would actually fit him or not; he pulled it on dutifully before Victoire walked outside and disapeared out of sight. He hesitated for a moment, staring out into the frozen evening, but soon followed after her. He hadn't even been outside for a one second before he realized that Victoire had stopped in her tracks just off to the side of the door. She was starting at something.

He follow her gazed and gaped slightly at the sight of Louis and his girlfriend pushed up against the wall, looking heavily involved in snogging one another. So involved, in fact, that they didn't even seem to notice that pair of them standing there.

Victoire cleared her throat. A perfect imitation of her father.

Both Louis and Sarah stopped immediately and glanced in the direction of where Ted and Victoire stood. Sarah turned a little red, but forced a sheepish smile. Louis just stood up straight and wiped his mouth.

"Enjoy the show?" Louis asked.

"You know, we could have easily been someone else," Victoire said, smiling a little. "Nicki's looking for you," she pointed at Sarah, "so there was nothing stopping her from waltzing right out here."

Louis shrugged. "We just felt like getting away for a bit."

"As did we," Victoire said, nodding to Ted. "Which means it's our turn now." She reached out to pull the door open, holding it open for them. She nodded towards the inside, as if silently telling them where they needed to go.

Sarah, who still looked rather embarrassed at being caught in a very heated lip lock, walked immediately to the door without hesitation, though Louis dawdled behind her. He threw Victoire a particularly annoyed look, but Victoire just shrugged.

"Sharing is caring, Lou," she said, still holding the door open for him. "The back porch is for everyone."

Louis muttered something under his breath that Ted couldn't make out, but still disappeared inside of the house regardless. Victoire let the back door slam behind him before turning back on Ted.

"Looks like we're not the only ones who had to get out of there."

"Seems that way," Ted said, watching as she walked over to the small set of wooden stairs that led down to the back garden. The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the cliffs not so far away were especially loud at the moment, which all but indicated rough and violent seas. They were almost distractingly loud, but Ted was quickly drawn back to Victoire standing there before him. She was beckoning for him to follow her towards the stairs; gesturing silently for him to take the step below the one she was standing on.

"Why—?" he began as he took to the step she had indicated below. He didn't get a chance to finish speaking though, since Victoire had taken the moment to place both of her hands on either side of his face and pull his face towards hers. It had taken him a second to figure it out, but she had obviously wanted their heights leveled out on the stairs to make the kissing easier for her.

Wasting no time falling back into old habits, Ted grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him as close as he could manage. It was this—this exact moment—that he'd been waiting every day for four months for. Her lips placed perfectly against his and moving in all the ways that made him practically want to beg to do more; her body just knowing exactly where to fit against the niches in his. It was as if everything clicked the way it was supposed to again; everything felt right. All the weirdness from having people gawk at them inside was gone and melted away in an instant. It was the first real kiss that they'd had in months, mostly thanks in part to Bill Wealsey spoiling their earlier attempt.

He pulled away just thinking about that.

"What?" Victoire asked, opening her eyes and looking at him.

"If your dad comes out and sees this—"

"He'll tell us to stop," Victoire said. "Who cares?"

He laughed a little. "Vic, I really don't want to push my luck. I don't want him to keep thinking that all we do is sneak off to fool around."

"All he said was that we couldn't get any privacy under his roof."

"Which is why—"

Victoire took to the step Ted was standing on and pushed at him, rather adamantly, to take to the ground step below. He stepped down as she had asked, but when he met her gaze again, she was smiling at him.

"There," she said. "Problem solved."

"We barely moved."

"Yes, but…" She pointed up to where the lip of the house's roof was protruding just over the edge of the porch and hanging directly over the top step, but not the other steps. "We're not under his roof anymore."

Ted stared at her, attempting to decide whether he should stare at her like she was absolutely mad, or laugh because he found the gesture rather adorable. He settled on somewhere in the middle. "You want your dad to kill me, don't you?"

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Of course not, but I would like to be able to kiss you without having to worry about the whole damn world butting in."

"It's not the whole damn world I'm worried about," he said. "It's one very particular man who could walk outside at any moment."

"Fine," she said as she leaned into him and brushed her lips lightly against his. "Then walk away."

"What?"

"You heard me," she said, moving away from his lips to brush his jaw line before moving down towards his neck. "If it bothers you so much, walk away. The door's right behind you."

Ted closed his eyes and let the feeling of her lips against his neck sink in. "That's not fair."

"I think it's plenty fair," she said, kissing him in a gentle and very purposeful manner. "You've got a perfectly reasonable choice to make." She stopped kissing his neck for a half a second. "So, Lupin. What's it going to be?"

Ted let his breathing become very steady as she continued to kiss him, though he didn't say anything for a very long time. It was hard to think, what with the war waging in his head between his common sense and his carnal urges. He knew what he _should _do, but what he _wanted_ to do seemed like a much, much, much, much better option.

After several seconds with no reply, Victoire stopped and looked up at him. "Well?"

He opened his eyes and stared back at her. She was smiling at him in a way that only made him realize that she knew exactly what she was doing. Even if she didn't consciously know what she was doing, she _knew_ what she was doing. And_ little_ girls were supposed to be the evil masterminds…?

"I'm an idiot," he muttered before he pulled her closer and let the carnal urges prevail. "I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot." If Bill walked out and caught them...well, at least he'd die do something he enjoyed.

She laughed. "You're a very cute idiot."

"I'm a stupid idiot," he said before he thrust his lips up against hers; ceasing all ability for either of them to talk while their mouths were otherwise preoccupied.

They were at it for awhile, though Ted couldn't tell how much time had passed. In fact, he hadn't really noticed at first—given that for the first several minutes of kissing; groping; and jockeying for less awkward, more comfortable positioning while attempting to keep the side of his house from sticking him in the back-but he had originally felt rather warm standing there. Everything had felt warm. He'd felt warm, she'd felt warm, together they'd felt warm_er_...At times, he'd even go ahead and say he was borderline feeling hot after four months of repressed urges came boiling to the surface.

But the longer they stood there pressed up against each other, the more the warmth slowly started to disappear. Ted's feet were starting to feel numb, and every time the sea wind happened to hit him, he had to fight off the urge to shake. He had been so wrapped up in how good Victoire felt, that when he had reached out to move his hand through her hair, he noticed that it felt as if pins and needles were stabling him through his fingertip.

Slowly, his common sense was coming back to him...

"Hey, " he asked, pulling away slightly to look her up and down, "are you cold?"

Victoire nodded quickly. Her face was flushed, though whether it was because of the snogging or the cold, Ted didn't know. "Freezing."

"Seriously?"

"I'm okay," she said, shivering as she said it. "It's worth it."

"Really? Because I'm actually freezing. My hands are feeling a little numb."

Victoire laughed, though it sounded sympathetic. She reached up and took his hand in hers in an attempt to warm it. It was counterproductive effort, considering her hands were just as, if not colder than his own.

"Remind me again why we just can't Apparate back to my flat?" he asked.

"Because I'm obviously not allowed to leave my family's Christmas party."

Ted pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a makeshift attempt to keep her warm. "We've got plenty time this week. We'll find some time for us to be alone where we don't have to stage off frostbite at the same time."

Victoire sniffled and laughed. "Let's hope so."

"I'll make sure of it," Ted said before he turned back to the backdoor. "Trust me. I want you in less clothes, not worrying about how I need to get you into more so you don't freeze to death."

She let another sniffle-laugh escape her before Ted led the way back inside of the warm kitchen. Almost instantly, he could feel his body start to thaw; the atmosphere immediately reminding him why people stayed indoors during icy nights instead of attempting to feel their girlfriends up in the cold.

"You were outside?" asked Dominique, who Ted hadn't immediately noticed sitting at the kitchen table. She was joined by Louis and Sarah, all of whom looked quite comfortable and warm as they sat watching Victoire and Ted remove their cloaks. "Are you mad? It's freezing outside."

"It's private outside," Victoire reminded her, throwing Louis a funny look. "Isn't it, Lou?"

He shrugged. "How would I know?"

"Did you give shagging on the lawn another go?" Dominique joked.

"Still unsuccessful," Ted said, taking the vacant seat next to her and inspecting the hot cup of something that she was drinking. "Where can I get some of that?"

She pointed to the stovetop, where a kettle was sitting and idly steaming. Ted made to stand and help himself, but Victoire was already walking towards it. She held up a hand to say she'd take care of it.

"You look like you're about to fall over and die," Louis said, inspecting Ted.

Ted shivered and pulled out his wand before casting a heating spell and pointing the wand tip at his face. Simply feeling the heat on his face was enough to make him keel over into a happy, warm stupor, though he resisted the temptation to do just that; instead, he smiled goofily.

"You're so weird," Dominique said, watching his face as she sipped from her mug. "Victoire, you've got a weird one."

"It was inevitable," Victoire said as she fiddled with the kettle and two mugs, "considering that I live with so many weird ones."

"I'm quite normal, thanks," said Louis, glancing at Sarah for reassurance. She smiled and shrugged.

Victoire set a mug of hot tea down in front of Ted before setting about to fix hers the way she took it. Ted waited for her to finish before he went to work preparing his own, but stopped when Roxanne Weasley appeared in the kitchen. She was carrying a large stick—like a fishing pole—with something green tacked onto the end.

"Roxie, I hope you're not running around with that," Victoire said as she spooned honey into her tea. "You're bound to stab someone."

"I'm not running with it," she said as she rested the stick casually against her shoulder.

"Then what are you doing with it?" Dominique asked.

"Having a bit of fun," Roxie said with a strange smile plastered across her face. As she said it, Lily and Lucy entered the kitchen just behind her. They both stopped in their tracks when they saw Ted and Victoire.

"Oh, get them!" Lily said, pointing at Ted and then to the stick in Roxie's hand. "They cheated earlier!"

"Is that…?" Ted asked, realizing quickly that the green item tacked onto the end of Roxie's stick had to be mistletoe. They'd apparently contrived a portable mistletoe device to stalk people with.

"Again?" Victoire asked wearily.

"Why us?" Ted asked the girls, gesturing between him and Victoire. "Why not someone else?"

"Because you're together," Lucy said obviously. "You should want to kiss."

"We do," Victoire said. "Just not in front of an audience."

"They're doing you a favor by not kissing, Luce," said Dominique. "I promise. It's not something you want to see."

"Too bad Davies isn't here," Victoire said as she blew on her tea to cool it. "Then they could stick it over your head, Nic."

"Nicki certainly doesn't need mistletoe as an incentive to do that," Sarah teased.

"Ho, ho, you're all so _very_ witty," Dominique said, rolling her eyes. "For that, I should make them stick the mistletoe over your head, Sarah."

"Yeah, why don't you do that?" Ted said to Roxie before pointing towards Sarah and then Louis. "Give me and Vic rest and work on those two."

Dominique smiled and shook her head. "No, that would actually be mean. Even I wouldn't make Sarah kiss Louis."

"Why?" Ted said with a laugh as he spooned honey into his own tea. "She obviously doesn't care. Hell, from what Vic and I just saw with the two of them going at it on the porch, I'd even say she likes it."

The air at the table became instantly tense, as if someone had said something offensive and sucked any of the commonality out of the room. Ted wasn't sure what had just happened, but both Louis and Sarah sat frozen to the spot; her eyes now wide and his just shut completely. Ted looked at Victoire beside him, who had her mug raised to her mouth, though she wasn't drinking. She simply held it frozen in front of her face before she slowly shook her head back and forth.

"Come again?" Dominique asked. "Going at what, exactly?"

"Was I not supposed to say that?" Ted whispered to Victoire.

She continued to shake her head.

"Wasn't suppose to say what?" Dominique asked, her eyes darting between Louis and Sarah.

Louis sighed and looked at the table top, but Sarah was watching Dominique with apprehension filled eyes. The look on Dominique face was curious, but also explosive. She had a powder keg mentality about her that Ted couldn't help but find rather familiar. The way she was staring at both Sarah and Louis seemed very reminiscent of the way Bill Weasley had stared him down months earlier. The only difference was Ted knew that Dominique had no problem letting her powder keg explode.

"Hello...?" Dominique asked, looking around the table at everyone. "Someone had better say something."

"We were going to tell you…" Louis finally said, though he didn't look at her.

"Tell me what?"

Roxie had walked over to raise her mistletoe stick over Louis's head, but Lily had grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her back, all while shaking her head and nodding towards the living room. The other two girls seemed to take the hint and slowly edged their way out of the room. Ted wondered if he should follow suit.

"Tell me what?" Dominique repeated

Ted nudged Victoire. "Maybe we should…"

"Sarah and I are," Louis began, "well, together, you could say."

Dominique stared at him. "You could say?" she asked before her expression twisted into patronizing sneer. "Oh, could you now?"

"Yeah," Louis said coolly. "I could."

Dominique looked away; her jaw now clenched tightly. "I knew something was…I _knew_ it, but I didn't know it because I would have never actually believed…" She trailed off. "It all makes sense now. How weird you've been the last few weeks," she pointed at Sarah, who sat picking anxiously at her fingernail, "and how you," she pointed at Louis, "have been acting like you're suddenly uninterested in all these girls. All the hanging about together you've been doing…it all comes together."

"Nic, you're not exactly the easiest person to spring this sort of news on," Louis added, his voice still calm. "You tend to react poorly—"

"Don't pull that bloody 'you tend to react poorly' excuse," Dominique muttered coldly.

Ted could practically see the wick of the powder keg suddenly ignite; the lit fuse now traveling towards its explosive source. It was a matter of seconds now.

"Well," Louis shrugged, casually as could be, "you do tend to react poorly. It's not exactly something you can ignore."

"Oh, piss off, Louis," Dominique spat as she pushed her chair away from the table and stood. "My best friend? Really? Of all the girls you could have gone after—"

"You're acting like I did this to spite you."

"No, I think you did this because you have some fucked up desire to prove you can get any girl out there, even my friends."

Louis looked immediately insulted at that, and his generally collected demeanor instantly showed cracks of faltering. "Right, no, it couldn't be that I actually fancy her. It has to be all about you, Nicki, doesn't it?"

"Piss off, Louis."

"No, you piss off!" he said, throwing his chair back and standing up to face her. "This is why we didn't tell you, because you go mental! You can't just accept that this has really nothing to do with you!"

"Nothing to do with me?" she yelled. "I'm the one who has to deal with these girls after you're out of the picture. I'm the one who has to listen to them and live with them! And now, I'll not only get to live with one, but _two_ girls who will claim to hate your guts after you split up, but deep down they're still secretly in love with you. I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the pieces, Louis!"

"What the hell are you on about?" Louis yelled back, turning to look at Victoire for some sort of answer.

She immediately shrugged as if she didn't know.

"Nic," said Sarah, speaking up for the first time, "I know we should have told you, but I was honestly afraid of how—"

"You can piss off, too," Dominique spat, standing up straighter. "My brother? You went and fell for my brother?" She shook her head and stared directly at her, though, for the first time, she looked upset rather than angry. "And you lied about it."

Both of them just stared at her. Louis was fuming, but Sarah looked like she could cry.

"Both of you can go to hell for all I care," Dominique said before she turned and walked straight out of the room, nearly bumping into her mother as she passed her on her way in. Fleur stopped in her tracks, as if waiting for some sort of explanation for the near collision, but Dominique had continued walking.

"Dominique," Fleur called after her.

There was no answer.

Fleur looked at the others questioningly, but no one said a thing. Louis still looked too angry to speak, and Sarah was now entirely too preoccupied by her own thoughts.

Ted glanced at Victoire, who had kept surprisingly silent during the entire exchange between her siblings. Usually, when any two of the Weasleys fought, the other was always jumping in and offering some sort of opinion on the subject. Victoire, however, had stayed completely mum on the matter. She stared blankly into her mug of tea, tapping on the side with her index finger.

"Why does it feel as zough someone 'as died?" Fleur asked.

"Because Nicki has that effect on people," Louis said.

Sarah frowned. "I need to talk to her."

"You should let her calm down a little," Victoire said slowly. "She's fairly impossible to reason with when she's angry."

"I sure as hell don't feel like talking to her," Louis said impassively before walking around the table towards the exit. He looked as if he was about to march right out of the kitchen, but hesitated briefly to look back at Sarah. He seemed to be waiting for her.

"I should go home," Sarah said as she stood and ran her hand nervously through her hair not once, but three times. She forced a weak smile at Fleur. "Thank you for inviting me. It was lovely."

"Of course," Fleur said. "We always enjoy your company, Sa'rah. You are always welcome."

Sarah's weak smile slowly turned into a frown. "Yes, well, at this rate, Nicki might have something to say about that." She forced yet another smile before turning and walking straight past Louis and out into the foyer. Louis didn't waste any time in following after her.

Ted blinked a few times before he felt Victoire's eyes on him. When he turned to meet them, she was smiling a little, though she quickly reached out to rub his shoulder reassuringly.

"It's my fault," she said. "I forgot to tell you they were keeping it a secret."

"That's a pretty big detail to leave out," he muttered. "I feel like the world's biggest prat."

"Don't," Victoire said dismissively. "That secret was itching to get out. It was simply a matter of time. Louis has been sitting on it for months. I kept telling him he needed to do something about it or else something just like this would happen."

"Did Louis and Dominique 'ave anozer argument?" Fleur asked as she busied herself with refilling a bowl with popcorn balls.

"That's one way of putting it," said Victoire.

She rolled her eyes. "Zey 'ave been at it all day. What was it about zis time?"

"Louis's been dating Sarah for a couple of months and Dominique just found out. She didn't take the news well."

Fleur stopped placing popcorn balls into her bowl and stared at Victoire. She didn't say a word, but the look on her face already spoke volumes. She looked as if she was expecting a "just kidding" to follow.

"I know, I know," Victoire said. "But it'll blow over. Perhaps not tonight, but in the next few days." She sighed. "I'm sure tomorrow will be a very holly, jolly Christmas…"

Fleur muttered something in French that sounded disgruntled; whatever it was, it made Victoire purse her lips and share a cautious look with Ted. He had no clue what had been said, but Fleur's now aggravated body language seemed to put a fair idea into his head.

"Um, speaking of Christmas," Victoire said, her tone now chipper in a clear attempt to cut through the leftover awkwardness in the room. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

Ted, who had still been looking across the room at an annoyed Fleur, looked back at her. "Who? Me?"

She gave him an obvious look.

"Oh." The truth was he had almost even forgotten it was even Christmas tomorrow. He actually had forgotten that a room full of people were still lingering and mingling just feet from where he was sitting, all enjoying snacks, each other's company, and holiday cheer.

"Ted?" Victoire repeated.

"Um," he said blankly, "well, I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest. Grams and I always go to Harry's on Christmas morning, though."

Victoire nodded. "I figured, but, I was wondering, what you plans were for afterwards?" She smiled. "And if, maybe, you'd want to come over for dinner?" She looked up at her mother. "He can come, right?"

Fleur made a tutting sound. "Victoire, you are supposed to ask permission before you extend an invitation. Not ze ozer way around."

Victoire forced an added sweetness to her smile. "But you're much more likely to say yes if I do it this way."

Fleur threw her a weary look, but something in her eyes seemed generally amused by her daughter's backwards logic. She even looked as if she was fighting off a smile, but Ted quickly interjected before she could speak.

"I don't want to impose," he said, looking right at Fleur. Of course, he'd love the added chance to spend time with Victoire, but the last thing he wanted to be was shoved down her parents' throat on a very family orientated day. He and Victoire were supposed to be easing their relationship onto people, not forcing it.

"You would not be imposing," Fleur said absently and she picked up the bowl she'd finally finished filling and walked towards the living room. "I do not mind at all." She looked at Victoire. "Ask your fahzer."

"I was sort of hoping if I just asked you—"

"I know what you were 'sort of 'oping'," Fleur said pointedly, "but you still 'ave to ask your fahzer. If he says yes, zen I 'ave no problem with Teddy coming." She smiled at Ted. "Zat is, if he wants to come. You should probably see 'ow he answers you before you assume."

Victoire eyes darted back to Ted as her mother exited the room. The forced sweetness in her smile from moments before had vanished and was replaced by something far more genuine. She was staring at him with those big expectant blue eyes, the same look she'd given him thousands of times in the past when she'd wanted something from him. He used to feel he was fairly immune to that look, but these days, it was getting a lot harder to resist.

"You don't have to," she said slowly.

For whatever the reason—Ted wasn't sure—he laughed at that. Perhaps it was because she seemed so unsure of how he would react, when in all reality, he'd probably jump off the cliffs outside of her house if it made her smile. Then again, it was probably better that she wasn't fully aware of that fact.

"What?" Victoire asked.

"If you dad lets me," he said, smiling at her. "I would love to."

Victoire's face lit up like the Christmas tree in the living room. "Oh, he'll let you. I'll use my exceptional powers of persuasion and he won't be able to say no."

"Oh yeah? Do those work?"

She smiled. "You tell me."


	28. Traditions

Victoire had never quite experienced a Christmas morning like this before. Ever since she was smaller, the tradition was that no matter how early she and her siblings awoke, they would have to stay upstairs and wait for their mother or father to call them down to see their gifts. As children, all three would sit against the upstairs railing, peering through the bars in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what was just beyond the entrance to the living room. It had always been a rather futile effort, but it never stopped them from trying. Their mother would make cocoa, and their father would playfully taunt them from the bottom of the stairs with claims of, "Wait until you see what you've got!" Those mornings were some of Victoire most fond memories from Christmases past, if not her entire childhood.

The tradition had mainly stayed in tact through the years, though, of course, changes came as they got older. As soon as they were all tall enough to reach the top of the railing, leaning against it had replaced peering through its bars; not to mention that instead of waking at the crack of dawn as they once had, any of them were lucky to be out of bed before nine o'clock these days. In fact, last year their father had to come and rouse Louis out of bed after shouting up the stairs for twenty minutes to get him up hadn't worked.

It was this Christmas morning in particular that Victoire had woken to find that ten o'clock was staring her in the face. She had rolled over in bed and stared at her clock on the bedside table, wondering if she was somehow imagining things. She squinted to be sure before reaching up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Looking back at the clock, the little hand was still on the ten, the larger hand on the one. They had actually let her sleep this late? No one had come to get her?

She sat up and blinked her eyes a few times. She still felt groggy, but that was due to having stayed up until three o'clock in the morning to finish Ted's coupons. She had counted on the rest of the day to complete them, but what with his fantastic surprise of turning up home from Russia early, it had been necessary to take the most of the night just so it could be ready for today.

She glanced at her desk, where two wrapped presents sat staring back at her from its spot on top of a stack of books. The longer she looked at it, the more she found herself smiling. She couldn't wait to give it to him.

But that was something for later, not now. With a lazy sigh, she pulled her covers off and lifted herself out of bed. Grabbing her robe, she pulled it on over her nightgown and quickly shuffled over to find a pair of socks to throw on her cold feet. As she pulled open her bedroom door, she noticed that both Louis and Dominique's doors were still shut tightly. There was noise coming from the kitchen, as well as the sound of the Wireless playing a mellow holiday tune from somewhere in the house, but that was all she could hear. Everything else was otherwise still.

Victoire took to the first few stairs before coming to a halt less than halfway down. A lover of traditions at heart, she didn't want to come down without being told she was allowed, just like every Christmas. Then again, it seemed rather stupid to adhere to a tradition when it seemed that she was the only one still doing it.

Still…

"Mum?" she called out. "Dad?"

The sound of a chair behind dragged across the hard floor was followed by a muffled pair of footsteps. A moment later, her father's head poked out from inside the kitchen.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Glad to see someone's up." He smiled. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," she said, looking back at Louis and Dominique's room. "I'm really the only one up?"

He nodded. "Your mother and I figured if you three were all going to have a lie in, we were going to let you."

Victoire stood rooted the spot. She had honestly been under the impression she had been the last one up. "Oh."

"But," he checked his watch, "it's getting late, anyway. Why don't you wake Lou and Nic up? Let's get things started."

"Who iz up?" came her mother's voice, followed a moment later by her head poking out of the kitchen as well. "'Ello, sweet'eart. Joyeux Noël."

"Joyeux Noël," Victoire repeated, smiling at her mother before she made her way back up the few stairs she had descended. She reached her sister's room first and knocked hard on the door. "Wake up, Nic!"

Without waiting for a response, she moved onto to Louis's room. He was easily the heaviest sleeper in the house, and it was often joked that he could sleep through an explosion without so much as stirring. She could hear him snoring through the closed door, so she put her fist up to the wood and pounded it three times. "Wake up, Lou!"

There was no immediate response, so she placed her ear against the door to see if Louis's snoring had ceased. It hadn't. She reached up and pounded once again.

"Victoire," called her father's voice from downstairs. "You'll knock the whole house down at that rate."

"He won't wake—"

"I'm up!" yelled a grouchy sounding Louis from behind the door of his room.

"Oh," Victoire said, smiling involuntarily at the door before she turned and called back down to her parents. "Never mind!"

She backed away from Louis's room and took her familiar spot at the banister railing. As the oldest, she always took the position nearest to the stairs that allowed her first access down to the living room. She knew it probably shouldn't matter who was first these days, but as far as she was concerned, Christmas morning always brought out the ten-year-old in her. She wasn't about to relinquish her spot.

She leaned up against the railing and looked down as her parents both patiently waited for the other two bedroom doors to open. A minute passed with them all still waiting. Then two. Then three. It seemed Dominique and Louis were taking their sweet time.

"Hustle up!" her father called up the stairs. "Fleur, do you remember when it was them dragging up out of bed?"

"Funny how zings change," her mother smirked.

After another minute, Dominique's bedroom door finally opened. Standing in her pajamas, her hair matted to one side and her eyes only half awake, she lazily made her way next to where Victoire was standing. She didn't bother speaking, but rather closed her eyes and rested her head against the top of the railing.

"About time," Victoire said.

She made an indecipherable sort of noise that sounded somewhere between a snore and a groan.

"Joyeux Noël, sweet'eart," said their mother, smiling up at Dominique.

"Joyewnole," Dominique mumbled, lifting her head up to rub her eyes.

"Louis, get a move on!" called their father again. "I swear he sleeps like the dead."

Louis's door opened, just as he was called, and he appeared while still pulling a baggy jumper over his head. He, too, looked groggy and grouchy, but not half as grouchy as he would be in a moment's time. The second he and Dominique met each other's gazes, they both gave off identical reactions of scowling, rolling their eyes, and immediately looking away.

"Morning, sweet'eart," said their mother. "Joyeux Noël"

"Joyeux Noël," Louis said sleepily, scratching his head and walking over to take his spot at the railing next to Dominique. The second he had, Dominique scoffed and stepped around Victoire towards the stairs.

"Hey…" said Victoire, her expression immediately protesting the sudden switching of spots. "You can't…"

"We're not five-years-old anymore, Vic," said Dominique as she took to the stairs. "It doesn't matter who's first."

Victoire frowned, but no one else seemed to care or correct the action. Dominique reached the bottom and stopped so that she could hug both of her parents, and when she was done, she walked straight into the living room.

"You two coming?" her father asked, looking up the stairs curiously.

Victoire nodded and glanced at Louis, who seemed to waiting for her to go. She wasn't sure if he was adhering to their age old tradition or whether he just didn't want to follow after Dominique. For some reason, the latter seemed far more likely.

From that point on, the morning could be summed up in one word: stressful. Dominique planted herself on one side of the room and Louis on the other; both refused to acknowledge that the other was even present. It made for a very awkward exchange of gifts, and, despite their parents' best efforts, the sense of family togetherness and camaraderie that they were clearly trying to achieve was now falling pitifully flat.

Victoire wasn't quite sure what had happened between Louis and Nicki after the fight in the kitchen the night before, though it was beyond certain that nothing had been rectified between then and now. Both of them had clearly gone to bed angry and now seemed content with simply not speaking to each other. They didn't acknowledge each other, they didn't get near each other, and they barely looked at each other. Even when they did, the looks were usually forced and fleeting; not to mention, sour.

The tension was inherently apparent to all, but it seemed to Victoire that her parents didn't want to acknowledge it. They seemed to want to ignore it. Perhaps it was on the blind hope that presents and Christmas would make it disappear; that things would fix themselves over such a lovely occasion of giving and receiving. It was hard to say what their reasons were, but both her mum and dad pressed on, bound and determined to make the most of Christmas morning.

As it was, Victoire wasn't sure what was more awkward. Her brother and sister's over-the-top obviousness or her parents' attempts at pretended that obviousness didn't exist. All she did know was that she had to pick a side, and siding against her parents didn't seem like the best of ideas.

In an attempt to make it seem like all was not lost, Victoire did her best to put on a positive attitude; even going so far as to get a little _too_ excited by gushing over a new set of professional looking quills that she'd received every year since she'd stared school. Someone had to put on the brave, happy face so that her parents' efforts weren't completely lost. Still, even she knew her attempts at over the top smiles and extra excited reactions could only carry the group so far.

That's not to say anyone seemed ungrateful or that there weren't positive moments. Dominique beamed from ear to ear and thanked her parents endlessly for her new broom, even going so far to jump up in down while clutching it tightly. Louis's eyes had practically bugged out of his head when he realized he'd received the entire special edition collection of Nymph Chaser's albums….but these moments were both fleeting. As soon as either of them was reminded of the situation at hand, the stagnant coldness returned to their demeanors. Even the usually people-pleasing Louis couldn't be bothered to pretend that all was well.

Victoire tried to ignore everything as much as she could. She instead focused on the positives, like enjoying her mother's reaction to her new perfume and the pretty new cloak she had received, as well as her father gushing over his brand new dragon skin travel bag. She didn't have to pretend to be ecstatic when she received a new camera—the clear highlight of her morning— with her usual bounty of clothes. Her parents had been exactly on point this year in making sure to get each one of their children the present they had asked for. It was just a shame that given the lulling tension in the room, that fact couldn't be celebrated more properly.

With her new camera in hand, Victoire had just begun to attempt to figure out its features when her mother pulled out the two last presents from underneath the tree.

"Zere are two left," she said as she held them up. "How did zese get forgotten?"

Dominique reached up and took one of the parcels from her mother before tossing it to Victoire. "Here, Vic. For you. Love me."

"Me?" Victoire asked, picking it up where it landed. "But you already got me that potions organizer."

Dominique merely smiled as Victoire examined the outside of the wrapped gift, her eyes falling last upon the tag. It read: _To Louis, from Nicki._

She looked back at her sister. "This is for Louis."

"Not anymore it's not."

"Well, in that case," Louis said, walking over to take the other present his mother was still holding, which he in turn handed to Victoire. "Happy Christmas, Vic."

Unsurprisingly, the tag on that present read: _To Nic, from Louis_. Victoire stared at both presents, unsure of what exactly she should do. Both Louis and Dominique were staring at her, but so were her parents; the latter did not look altogether pleased. Their forced cheerfulness seemed to have reached its boiling point.

"Okay, enough is enough," their father said wearily. "You two," he pointed to Dominique and Louis, "either cool it or you can spend Christmas upstairs. I'm tired of whatever it us you two are at each other throats for, but it ends now. Is that clear?"

Neither Dominique nor Louis said anything, but neither looked like they were about to cool anything off either. In the awkwardness of the moment, Victoire reached down and tore the paper off one of the presents to offer a distraction. Inside was a set of Quidditch gloves—the kind that guaranteed its wearer a firmer gripe on the broom's handle.

"Gee," Victoire said dully, looking over at Louis. "You shouldn't have."

"Those are the cheap kind," Dominique muttered purposely.

"They weren't when I help picked them out," her father countered.

Dominique made a sheepish face as Victoire attempted to move things along by opening the other present, which turned out to be a portable Wireless. Louis automatically dubbed it the "rubbish one that falls apart after a few plays," but relented commenting further on it when his father gave him a very particular glare.

It had been the most nerve-racking Christmas morning Victoire could remember in record memory, and not to mention the quickest. Tradition usually called for playing with their new goodies while enjoying breakfast all together. What they got was Louis claiming he was going upstairs to listen to his new albums while Dominique went outside to test her new broom. It left Victoire alone with her parents—both of whom weren't faking their way through anything by this point.

"I get that they're upset," Victoire heard her father saying to her mother from the living room as she stuffed wrapping paper into the rubbish bin in the kitchen, "but it's Christmas and I will not have the two of them ruining it for everyone else. Did you see Victoire acting overly happy about everything to overcompensate?"

Victoire laughed a little as she used her wand to cast a Compacting Charm on the trash inside the bin. Apparently, acting wasn't in her future.

"Just give zem a little time," she heard her mother say gingerly, her voice louder and sounding as if it was growing nearer.

"I just wish they'd realize it's not just their holiday they're spoiling," he muttered, his voice now sounding close as well. Victoire turned and saw that both of them had entered the kitchen behind her.

Her mother smiled when she saw her. "'Ave a good 'oliday?"

"Great," Victoire said, braving a smile. "Fantastic."

Her mother came over and kissed her on the forehead. "Glad to 'ear it. Now," she walked around the kitchen and began pointing her wand at various pots and pans, "time for ze cooking to begin."

"I'll do the potatoes," her father offered, walking over to where a sack of potatoes sat resting against the pantry door. "Vic, what time is Ted coming?"

"I told him around four," she said, thinking back to the night before where her father had agreed—without hassle, amusingly enough—to have Ted over for dinner. "We always tend to eat a little earlier than usual, so I thought that was safe."

He hummed. "Yeah, that should be good." He got quiet for a moment. "It'll be his first dinner with the family, huh?"

Victoire stared at him. "He's had dinner with us a hundred times before."

"Yeah, but not as—" he made a funny face "—'the boyfriend.'"

"It's really not that different," Victoire said as she joined her father where he stood. She drew her wand and reached out to grab a spud and help peel.

"Oh, it's completely different."

Victoire watched as potato skin started separating itself from the rest of the potato. "How so?"

He smiled at her. It was a funny smile, as if he was highly amused by something. "Because boyfriends get special treatment."

Victoire eyes went wide, a little afraid of what he was playing at. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He continued to grin, but said nothing.

"Dad…"

He laughed.

"Do not hassle him! It's so ridiculous when you pretend to be the tough, scary dad."

This time, both he and her mother stared laughing.

"It's not funny," she said seriously.

Her father reached out and tousled her hair. "I think that's entirely dependent on which side of this you're on.

* * *

"Stop it," said Dominique after Victoire had taken another picture of her with her new camera.

It was probably the fifteenth picture she'd taken of her sister over the last few minutes, but she was the only one offering her any opportunity to use her new camera. Her father had disappeared on a quick errand, her mother had threatened to take the camera back if she took any pictures of her while she was up to her elbows in cooking grease, and Louis was still locked away in his room. That only left Dominique, who hadn't minded the photos while she was flying around on her broom; now that they had come back inside, she seemed to be tiring of them.

"I'm serious," Dominique added as she walked back through the front door of the house, broom in hand. "Stop."

Victoire snapped another picture of Dominique while she happened to be staring at her with a disgruntled, ornery expression. She grinned as she lowered her camera. "I'll call this one, 'Nicki: On any normal day.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you look grumpy and foul," Victoire said, "like any normal day."

"Don't be surprised if your camera accidentally finds itself thrown over the cliffs by the end of the evening."

"Don't be surprised when your broom joins it."

"Girls," said their mother, who had appeared from kitchen to meet them in the entrance way. "Don't _you_ start." She looked purposely at Victoire. "You both should go dress for dinner."

Dominique grumbled. "Why do we have to get dressed for dinner? What's the difference between this dinner and every other dinner we have?"

"Because it's Christmas," Victoire said, making an obvious face.

"But why does that matter?"

"Why do you have to argue everything?"

"Because it iz a special occasion," their mother said brightly, her mood seemingly increased from earlier in the day, "and because you both look so lovely and pretty when you are all cleaned up."

Dominique shook her head. "Flattery gets you nowhere, Mum."

"Annnnd," their mother added with cheerful inflection, "because we 'ave company joining us."

"Since when?" Dominique asked. "Who's joining us?"

"Ted's coming," Victoire said brightly.

Dominique's eyes immediately rolled into the back of her head. "Ted doesn't count as company."

"He does, too."

"He does not," she countered. "He's just Ted. When I think company, I think of being forced to dress up and look stuffy. Ted's not the type of company you need to dress up for. Even he'd tell you that."

Victoire considered that. She did have a point.

"Even if he wasn't coming," their mother said, ushering them both up the stairs at a hasty rate, "you know ze rules. Go put on some of your new zings, clean up, and look presentable for dinner. Tell your brother to do ze same."

Both girls shuffled up the stairs, and, without even discussing which one of them was going to tell Louis, Victoire reached the top first and walked straight down the hallway towards his room. She knocked twice while listening to the sound of loud music trickling out from just behind the door. When there was no response, she knocked harder.

"It's open," called Louis.

She opened the door and poked her head inside his room, which was messy and had a stale and very—what Victoire considered—boy-like quality about it. Louis's new Christmas presents and discarded boxes were strewn about the floor, and his new clothes and robes were lying just on top of his desk. On his unmade bed in the middle of the room, Louis lay holding a thick bound book above his head, as if he'd been reading it. He glanced at Victoire as she entered, but waited for her to speak first.

"Mum wants—" she began to say, but stopped when she realized she wasn't about to be heard over the music. Louis seemed to realize this as well because he reached just above his bed, where his Wireless lay on a low shelf, and turned the volume down.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Mum says you have to get dressed for dinner."

He tossed his book to the side and checked his watch. "This early?"

She shrugged. "I'm just the messenger."

"What do we have to get dressed up for anyway?"

"Mum likes it," she said, still standing in the doorway. "And we've got company coming."

"Who?"

"Ted."

Louis rolled his eyes in a manner identical to Dominique's. "Ted's not company."

Victoire smiled a little, wondering if Louis and Dominique ever really realized how similar they were sometimes. "Nicki said the same thing."

"Well, then I take it back," he said. "Maybe he is."

Victoire sighed and leaned against his door frame, her arms folded in front of her. It was strange to see Louis's anger simmer like this. He was the one who—when he actually got mad—just exploded once before letting it all go. He didn't forget, and he may not forgive, but he never dwelled like he was now. This was more Dominique behavior.

"Lou," she said, "you knew this was how she'd react when she found out."

"Vic, I'm really not in the mood."

"Yeah, well, Mum, Dad, and I aren't in the mood to have our days crapped on because you and Dominique want to be stubborn. I mean, Lou, you're not supposed to be the stubborn one. You know that."

He looked up at the ceiling, seemingly uninterested in what she was saying. "I can be whatever the hell I want to be. Thanks."

"Well, how about you consider not being a prat and just talking to Nicki like an adult?" she offered. "Because you know damn well she'll sit on this until the end of time. She's far too stubborn to come to you. You need to talk to her. If not for you, then do it for Sarah."

He looked back at her, but didn't say anything.

"And no offense, but she has every right to be mad at you," Victoire said before she turned to leave. "You did lie to her."

"I didn't lie to her—" he began before he stopped mid-sentence. "And I can't believe _this_ is coming from the person who was this close," he held up his index finger and thumb millimeters apart from each other, "to being in the exact same position I am, except with Mum and Dad."

"And had I not been lucky," she muttered, "they would have been mad at me—and rightfully so. I easily could have been in that position, but I did get lucky. I'm sorry you didn't, but that doesn't mean you should just let things fester."

"Whatever," Louis said curtly, throwing his legs over the side of his bed and sitting up. "I need to change."

"Fine," Victoire said, sighing heavily and taking the hint to leave without arguing the matter further. She stepped out of his room and shut the door behind her, glancing back at the door briefly. She stared at it for a moment before walking back to the other end of the hallway towards her own room.

Louis was supposed to be the easy one to reason with; he was supposed to be sensible. He wasn't supposed to be the difficult one and he certainly wasn't supposed to equal Dominique's level of petty stubbornness. If he was being this difficult, she didn't even want to think about what Dominique would say. Dominique would fight this tooth and nail, and she positively wouldn't relent unless Louis came to her first.

Still, even in knowing this fact, Victoire had to assume she had nothing to lose with at least trying to talk to her sister. She could make the effort for the sake of salvaging what was left of the holiday. Perhaps she'd perform a Christmas miracle and make Dominique come to her senses before Louis could. Perhaps she'd go to him. Stranger things have happened…

She walked back to her room, where she sat on her bed and positioned herself next to the open bedroom door that offered her a complete view of the hallway. It was here that she leaned back against the wall and waited, glancing casually out towards Dominique's room until the sound of her door opening, followed by footsteps, caught her attention. She sat up straight.

"Nic," she said before Dominique had managed to get to the stairs. "I need to ask you something."

Dominique appeared a moment later in Victoire's doorway, though didn't say a word. She was staring at Victoire, as if waiting to see what it was she'd been summoned for, but Victoire couldn't help but take in the almost strange site of her sister.

Standing there, wearing something besides an oversized jumper or beat up trainers, Dominique actually looked very put together. She actually had on a new, fitted, clean looking jumper than didn't make her already rail thin frame look smaller than it actually was—the usual effect of wearing clothes that we far too big for her. She even matched! She also looked as if she'd taken the time to properly part her hair with a brush, as opposed to just dragging one through it to catch a stray knot or two. As per the usual, when Dominique actually tried, she always looked so incredibly pretty.

"What?" Dominique asked finally. "And this better have nothing to do with taking my photo."

Victoire smiled. "But you look so nice."

"What'd you really want?"

Victoire stood to shut the door behind her, specifically so that Dominique wouldn't storm out when the topic of she and Louis was breached. In an attempt to find an excuse as to why she had called her sister in here, she glanced at the pile of new clothes she had received for Christmas. Here goes nothing…

"Well, I need help," Victoire said, pointing towards the clothes.

"With?"

"What I should wear."

Dominique cocked her eyebrow. "Then why are you asking me?"

Victoire shrugged. "Your suggestions couldn't hurt."

"They probably won't help either."

"You put that together," Victoire said, pointing to what she was wearing. "You look fantastic."

"I only put this together because Mum put all of this," she gestured to her entire outfit, "in the same box together. I assumed she probably did that for a reason."

"Still," Victoire said, ignoring her excuses and gesturing once again to the pile. She'd already spotted what she was probably going to end up wearing, but Dominique didn't need to know that. "I need some direction."

Dominique sighed—the kind of sigh that sounded like she'd rather be doing anything else in the universe. She begrudgingly walked over and picked up the first two things on the pile before turning around to hand them to Victoire as soon as she could be rid of them.

"Here. This."

Victoire took what she had offered her—a pretty blue dressrobe and a pair mud-brown shorts. Even if the two didn't clash terribly, it wasn't as if she could physically wear one with the other anyway. But, Victoire chose to ignore this fact as she took them from her sister and smiled.

"Thanks."

"Glad to be of help," Dominique said lamely, turning back towards the door.

"Nic," Victoire said before she could get too far away. "You need to talk to Louis."

Dominique stopped in her tracks and slowly rounded on her. "Louis's the one who messed up. He needs to talk to me."

"I agree with you," she said, "but, he's not going to because he's offended that you seem to think his relationship with Sarah is just some fling that means nothing."

"Why shouldn't I think that?"

Victoire shrugged. "Why should you? Since when has Louis used anyone?"

Dominique sighed. "Vic, I'm not talking about this right now."

"Fine," she said, just as she had to Louis. "Don't talk about it with me, but talk about it with him. You two are setting everyone else off, and it's selfish to think your fight is only affecting the two of you—"

Dominique didn't wait for her to finish. She instead walked straight over to the door and pulled it open, exiting without a word or a glance back at Victoire.

Victoire's mouth had still been open from speaking, but she quickly shut it. Well, that was that then. She had made the effort, which was really all she could do. If neither were going to listen to sound reason, then the two of them would have to stop being so stubborn and work out their own business without outside help. She had more pressing matters to focus on at the moment.

She checked the clock on her desk. It was nearly four, which meant Ted was due at any minute. It meant he'd soon be here to open his present, and it would be a nice to have him around to change the stiff dynamic of things.

But she still needed to get dressed. She glanced down at the clothes Dominique had handed her, making a quick face at the combination of the two terribly paired items. Leave it to her sister to find create the ugliest combinations of things. What on earth went through that girl's head sometimes?


	29. Family Dinner

It had taken her twenty minutes, but after dressing, primping, and fixing herself to her proper standards, Victoire emerged downstairs ready for Christmas dinner. She had been prepared to help her parents set the table for dinner, but instead found only her father now busying himself around the kitchen. Her mother had apparently disappeared off to somewhere, and the kitchen—and more importantly, the food—was now left completely unattended. Her father seemed to be taking advantage of this fact.

For a moment, Victoire absently watched as he poked around in the various cauldrons and pans to inspect what was cooking. He would lift a stove top lid, sniff—or sometimes stir—the contents within, and then taste whatever it was inside. He did this three or four times, all while remaining completely oblivious to Victoire's watchful eye.

She cleared her throat, and he looked up and smiled quickly. They both knew that if her mother had caught him instead of her, there would be words. Loud words.

"Do me a favor and don't tell your mum," he said, still holding a spoon that he'd just sampled from.

She smiled. "Your secret's safe with me."

"That's my girl. You know how your mother—"

There was an abrupt knock at the front door.

Her father checked his watch. "I'm guessing that's for you," he added before sticking the spoon he'd been using back inside of its intended pot.

Without a moment's hesitation, Victoire made her way to answer the door and beamed with eager anticipation as she pulled on the doorknob. It probably would have been an oddly enthusiastic reception had anyone but Ted been standing on the other side, but luckily for her, Ted was exactly was she got.

"Hi," Ted said, matching her smile almost instantly. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," she said, looking him up and down and noticing that he'd cleaned himself up for the occasion. She couldn't remember telling him that her family tended to dress up for Christmas dinner, but he'd somehow got the memo as he stood there looking very handsome and put together. He'd even followed Dominique's lead and brushed his hair with an actual comb instead of the hand he usually used.

A jolt of excitement quickly pulsed through her the longer she stared at him. Here was Ted, dressed nicely to have dinner with her family as her boyfriend; not to mention, Christmas dinner at that! This was an actual, authentic holiday…not one of those silly holidays that people played up as more than they really were. No, this was big. This was the first real time she and he would be around her family without the added distraction of having tens of other people about celebrating a party. This was just him, her, and them…

"You look good," said Victoire, smiling as several choice thoughts of where she'd rather be with him right now began running through her head. She couldn't help it when he looked like this. Something about him looking this sharp always did it for her.

"Thanks," he said, looking a little self-conscious, though he quickly looked her up and down. "You look—" He stopped to consider that, a very particular stare on his face. It was a look that Victoire was far more used to seeing when it was just the two of them and things were a lot more private. "You look very—" He stopped yet again, only this time his eyes had darted to something behind her. In that instant, his expression had changed from sexy to awkward. "Um, lovely. You look lovely."

Victoire's brow furrow curiously, but it all soon made sense when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hi, Teddy," said her father. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Bill," Ted said, straightening up his posture.

Victoire looked away, all while trying not to laugh at him. She probably should have been more annoyed with her father for making a blatant point of popping in at every opportunity he could find that involved Ted, but she almost found it a little funny to see Ted flip as quickly as he did. However, if it became more frequent, she might have another opinion entirely.

"What you got there?" asked her father as he stood aside to let Ted enter. He had gestured to something Ted was holding, and it hadn't been until he had said it that Victoire noticed Ted's hands were full.

"Oh," Ted said, first holding up a bottle of wine. "Well, this if for you and Fleur, of course. For having me."

"You didn't have to do that," said her father, taking it from him to examine the bottle's label. "But thank you."

Victoire threw Ted an impressed nod and a goofy smile, almost wondering what exactly he was trying to achieve here by playing the kiss arse. In return, he caught her eye, smiled modestly, barely shrugged, and then immediately looked back to her father as he continued to examine the bottle. She almost had the urge to tell him to relax already.

"And, this is for you," Ted continued, holding the other item that he'd brought with him out to Victoire.

"Oh, wow," she said unexpectedly, looking down at a wrapped gift in his hands. She hadn't expected any presents after he'd come home early for her, but took it and immediately noticed that it felt like a hardcover book. "I thought you getting back yesterday was my present. I didn't think you were going to get me anything else."

"It's just something small," he said.

She reached down to tear away at the paper, but only managed one corner before he nudged her in the arm and shook his head. His eyes had darted to her father, then he had looked down at the present in her hand, as if signaling not to open it yet.

She stared at him, silently asking what on earth he had gotten her that she couldn't open in front of her father. He simply mouthed, "Later."

"Well, we should be eating any time now," her father said, causing both she and Ted to glance back at him. "As soon as your mum's done getting ready," he glanced up the stairs, "which I assume won't be too long, but you know how your mother can get sometimes."

Victoire nodded, but said nothing as her father stood there for a moment, staring between her and Ted. It was the sort awkward moment where any normal person would have excused themselves away to be polite, allowing the two people who obviously wanted to be alone a moment of privacy. In this case, however, her father simply stood there grinning from Victoire to Ted.

"Well," Victoire finally said, "we're going to go in the living room. Just let us know when you need any help when dinner's ready."

Her father nodded and looked at Ted. "Yeah. Sure. Make yourself at home, Ted." He turned back towards the kitchen, where something was now making a loud whistling sound. "Oh, Vic?"

"Yes?"

"Stay downstairs, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know, Dad…" she mumbled, glancing at Ted. He was trying not to smile, but the moment her father had disappeared back into the kitchen, he lost that battle.

"Well, then…" he said, taking a deep breath.

"He thinks he's being funny, though obviously he's not," Victoire muttered before she headed into the living room. "Welcome to the fun..."

"That tone doesn't sound entirely convincing."

"Don't ask," she said as she crossed the room towards the sofa. "Nicki and Lou are complete brats."

Ted followed her. "They're still at it about yesterday?"

"I'm sure you'll get to witness it soon enough," she said, her expression growing more and more annoyed. She turned and sat on the sofa nearest to the Christmas tree and quickly shook her head. The drama of that morning was the last thing she felt like reliving at the moment. With Ted here, she wanted her day to turn around; to become less about the stress and more about the fun. Just as she had promised herself earlier, she wasn't going to let Louis and Dominique ruin her day. "Anyway, how was your morning? How were things over at Ginny and Harry's?"

Ted took the seat next to her, though he left more room between them than he usually would. "Good. Grams and I went over there and we watched the kids get loads of new things, which was fun. No real arguments between the kids this year, so that was nice." He shrugged. "Very normal."

"What about you?" she asked. "Did you get anything nice?"

He shrugged. "A little money."

"They gave you money?"

"I didn't want anything," he said as he absently stared into the Christmas tree. "Ginny actually told me to stop being so difficult." He smirked. "My Grams did too, but she always does, so that's nothing new."

Victoire cracked a smile. "Well, you are very difficult, that's for sure."

"I don't mean to be," he said, his eyes shifting from the tree to her. "How about you? What'd you get?"

She took a deep breath. "Let's see. A new camera, clothes, a potions organizer, some picture frames," she paused deliberately to make a face, "and a portable Wireless and some Quidditch gloves."

"Quidditch gloves?" he asked, his face now screwed up rather curiously.

"Let's just say," she began, "that Dominique and Louis decided to take their gifts to each other and re-gift them to me."

Ted gaped a little, though he suddenly laughed. "They're _that _angry with each other?"

"Seems that way," she said, glancing towards the entrance to the living room. "I told you. Dinner will be a load of fun."

"Wow…" Ted said. "What did I start?"

"You didn't start it," Victoire corrected. "If anything, you finally set forth the motions to finish it."

"Yeah, but are we really ones to talk about outing other people's secrets?" he asked. "It's pretty hypocritical for either of us to—"

"Maybe so," she said, feeling as though this was the last thing she wanted to keep discussing all day. "Still…." She shook her head and decided to change the subject; instead she looked down at the present Ted had handed her earlier that she still hadn't opened. "So why can't I open this?"

He smiled and turned his body towards hers on the sofa. "You can open it. I just didn't want you to open it right in front of your dad."

She reached to tear at the paper, though hesitated briefly. "Should I be worried?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just— well, you'll see what I mean when you open it. Honestly, it's just something small, considering most of the money I had planned on buying you something with went to paying Simon back for that Portkey, which…" he grimaced, "let's just say Portkey fees are ridiculously high. Particularly if they're last minute…"

"So I've heard," she said, smiling a little. "I'm surprised he couldn't get you a discount."

"He did," Ted said. "I got the Portkey for free, but I still had the fees and…" He suddenly bit his tongue. "But that doesn't matter. It was all worth it." He gestured back to the present, "Anyway, I just thought I should get you _something_ else, you know? Unfortunately for me, my timing was crap because I went out this morning to get it, and, believe it or not, everything is closed on Christmas."

Victoire laughed as she tore at the paper.

"Who would of thought?" he joked. "I did, however, find this one place that was open. Keep in mind, there wasn't much to choose from."

"I just want to know why I couldn't open it in front of my dad," she said, pulling the last of the paper off and looking down at what she had correctly guessed as being a book—a cookbook, to be specific.

"It's for the both of us," he added, obviously noticing her curious expression. "Since after that turkey incident at my flat, I thought, maybe we could use one in the future." He hesitated. "I thought it was funny."

Her curiosity gave way to a smile once she fully understood the context of his intentions. "It is funny. It's very thoughtful, actually." She turned towards him. "But, my dad wouldn't have cared about cookbook."

"I just didn't think he would have gotten the joke, so he may have thought I was being a prat and telling you to get in the kitchen and learn to cook."

Victoire stared at him for a moment, wondering whether or not he was being serious. When she realized he was, her blank stare immediately gave way to a fit of laughter. "You actually thought about that?"

"Yes."

She smiled at him and leaned out to pat his hand affectionately. "Oh, Ted…"

"What?"

"I just love you, is all," she said, smiling as she randomly flipped through a few pages in the cookbook before shutting it. She turned and learned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Ug, get a room," mumbled Dominique's sudden voice from the entrance way to the room.

Victoire leaned forward in her seat to glare at her. "_We_ did. You're the one who walked in here." She looked back at Ted. "Honestly, is there a Sensor Spell following me around? I swear if I so much as get within a foot of you, someone will come barging in as if they were called."

"No. No spell," said Dominique. "I just get the unfortunate pleasure of always having to witness it."

"Well then," Ted said awkwardly, the sweetness of the moment clearly lost with Dominique's arrival. "Happy Christmas, Nicki."

"If you say so," she said lamely, cloak still on and her hair now looking utterly windswept. She stepped forward into the room and made her way to sofa opposite of where they sat, looking obviously as though she'd been outside. Her clothes were now partially wrinkled and she looked like she'd probably been on her broom. No surprise there; even when she did manage to clean herself up for once, she had to make sure she was never too tidy.

"What'd you get there, Vic?" Dominique asked, pointing at the cookbook.

Victoire looked down at it. "Ted got it for me." She reached out to hand it to her.

Dominique took it and stared at its cover for several seconds before her eyebrow steadily began to rise. "You don't cook."

"It's an inside joke."

"Well…it sounds hilarious," Dominique said before reaching out to hand her the book back. "I've always thought inside jokes were the best way to be cheap and get away with it."

Victoire threw her sister a dirty look.

"Actually," said Ted, "me coming home early was the actual present. This was just something—"

"This is what I was telling you about," interrupted Victoire, though she had gestured to her sister. "Between her and Louis, _this _is the sort of thing we've been dealing with all day."

Dominique ignored her; instead she changed the subject entirely, as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said. "Did you give him his present yet?"

"Not yet. He just got here."

"What are you waiting—?"

"Hey," said her father, appearing in the doorway with what looked like gravy on his face. "I could use some help with setting the rest of the table."

Victoire threw Dominique one last derisive look before turning to her father. "Okay."

"We'll be ready to eat once that's done," he added. "Nic, do me a favor and go grab your brother."

Dominique immediately looked at Victoire, but after that little display, she couldn't seriously expect her to do her any favors.

Victoire shook her head. "You heard him."

"Oh, come on, Vic."

"No."

"Well, I'm not doing it."

"Neither am I."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. Dad asked you."

They both stared defiantly at each other, each daring each other to just try to push this further than it was already going. As it was, Victoire's patience with her sister was already starting to wear dangerously thin. There was no need for all of this pettiness from her on Christmas of all days, no matter how mad she claimed to be at the world.

"I'll do it," Ted offered, staring between both girls a little cautiously.

"What's the hold up?" Bill asked, his head poking back into the living room once again. He was levitating a small cauldron, which had floated in and out of sight the moment he had made himself apparent. "Dominique, go get Louis. Victoire, please get your wand out and help me with the table. Ted, you're more than welcome to help. We could use the hands."

"Why do I—?" Dominique began.

"Dominique," snapped her father. "I am not going ask you to go and get your brother again. When you're done, I want you both in the dining room so I can speak to you."

Dominique looked down at the ground, avoiding her father's eyes. "Fine."

"Go get your brother," he repeated, disappearing from the room as he said it.

Dominique had waited until she was sure he was gone before mumbling, "Ug, this is so stupid," under her breath. She threw herself up off the sofa to march towards the stairs. "We could just call up the stairs and he would hear us. I don't see why I have to…"

She disappeared from the room as she said that, though the sounds of her stomping up the stairs let everyone know that she certainly wasn't done speaking her piece.

Victoire stood from sofa all well, glancing a little diffidently back at Ted. "I had really hoped you being here would have calmed things down, but that was probably asking for a lot." She shook her head. "I swear things are never this bad. She's being especially bratty today."

Ted smirked and followed her lead by standing from the sofa. "You're acting like I'm new around here."

"Oh, she's rarely _this_ bad and you know it," Victoire said, pulling her wand from her pocket as she walked from the living room to the kitchen. Inside, her mother was already there, looking especially lovely now that she'd dressed for dinner. She was floating about the kitchen putting things into bowls and onto serving platters; preparing everything to be served. Christmas had always been her mother's favorite holiday, so she always especially went all out with the food. There was roasted turkey with roasted sage potatoes, carrots, peas, brussels sprouts, sausages wrapped in bacon, chestnut stuffing…and that was just what Victoire could see. That also wasn't even taking into account Christmas pudding and petits fours for afterwards.

"Looks fantastic, Mum," said Victoire, searching the counter for what she should take. "Everything smells amazing."

Her mother looked up and smiled, her eyes immediately settling on Ted. "Oh, 'ello, Teddy. Joyeux Noël."

"Um, you too," he said, though he quickly made a point of catching Victoire's eye. He seemed to be silently asking if he'd answered the question he thought she'd asked.

Victoire nodded and gave him an affectionate pat on the arm before she pointed her wand around at the various food items. "What would you like me to take?"

"Everyzing needs to go out," Fleur said, scooping the last of the carrots into a serving dish. "Take your pick."

"Is that bacon wrapped sausage?" asked Ted, his eyes growing a little excited.

"They are," Victoire said with a nod, knowing that Ted had a serious love affair for all things wrapped in, served with, cooked in, or mentioning bacon. "You'll love those."

"And what's this?" he asked, pointing to something on the far side of counter.

Victoire took a step towards him to see what he was referring to. "Looks like duck foie gras with some truffles." She looked back at her mother. "Right, Mum?"

"But of course," she said.

"It's her favorite," Victoire added.

Ted seemed a little hesitant the more he inspected it. "What's in it?"

"Well, duck for starters," Victoire joked.

"But what part of the duck?"

"'ave you never 'ad it?" Fleur asked, looking shocked at the prospect. "Oh, it iz wonderful! Nozing is better zan a well prepared foie gras. I insist you 'ave some! Where iz ze bread I 'ave toasted? You can try it now."

"It's liver," Victoire said, smiling at him. "Duck liver that's been fattened to give it flavoring. It's really quite good."

Ted looked as if good was not the word he would have used to ever describe it, but he forced a very fake smile onto his face. "Sounds delicious."

Victoire made every attempt to hide her laughter. Ted was as simple as it got when it came to food. He liked the things he was used to and rarely stepped out of his comfort zone of bacon, beef, fish, and chicken.

"Mum," she said, turning to her mother, "Ted's pretty much a novice when it comes to French food. You'll have to show him how good it really is."

"Oh, you don't have to go out of your way for me," Ted said, sounding more than insistent.

"Do not be silly," Fleur said, waving her hand dismissively as she found the toast that she'd been looking for. "Zese are zings you should 'ave. English food iz so one note and," she made a face, "well, zey simply 'ave a zing or two to still learn about cooking." She handed him a piece of toast. "J'ust put some on zere. Go on."

Ted glance back Victoire, who smiled at him. Truth be told, he'd probably like if he just tried it, but the look he was giving her now made it seem like he was about two seconds away from making up some duck live allergy. He begrudgingly did slowly help himself to some, though the amount of foie gras that he taken was next to nothing. When he bit into it, Victoire was convinced he actually managed to swallow it without chewing or tasting it.

"Really good," he said much too quickly, though it took him an extra second to remember to smile as if he did actually meant what he was saying.

"Well, of course it iz."

Victoire laughed at the entire display before she took her wand and pointed it at the bowl of roasted potatoes, then the stuffing, and then the carrots; levitating all three into air. She directed each dish out into the other room, where, when she entered, she saw both Louis and Dominique standing there being lectured by her father. All three turned to look at her.

"Go finish helping with the food," her father said, a finality in his tone that made Victoire think he was done discussing whatever it was they had been talking about.

Neither Louis nor Dominique's faces looked pleased as they passed on the way into the kitchen, but they didn't say a word. They merely left as they were told.

"I'll take those," her father said to her, his tone already more pleasant than seconds before. He had grabbed at two of the bowls Victoire had levitated in and was now setting them on the table. "How much is left in the kitchen?"

"I think once everyone else gets back, that'll be everything," Victoire said, taking to her usual seat at the table just as Ted walked into the room carrying some food of his own. Behind him with their arms full, Louis and Dominique followed; their mother entered last with the remainder of what had been left in the kitchen. Once it was all set down on the table, there was barely an inch of free space to be seen.

"I really do make too much," said her mother, inspecting the table and its lack of space.

"That's not true," said her father, taking his arm and wrapping it around her mother's shoulder affectionately. "And even so, it makes for plenty of leftovers."

Victoire smiled. "Yeah, isn't the unspoken rule that we're not supposed to have to cook anything new until my birthday since we've got _at least_ that many days worth of leftovers?"

"I've always thought we could make it past your birthday," said her father as he took the seat across the table from her. "Though your mother never lets me try."

"Five days worz of leftovers iz not right," said her mother, gesturing for everyone to sit. "And Victoire should never 'ave to 'ave leftovers for her birzday. Which, speaking of, what are you doing for your birzday?"

Victoire shrugged and looked at Ted, as if to ask if he had any ideas. He was being surprisingly quiet, though he merely smiled and shrugged at her. "We can figure something out. Whatever you want to do."

She smiled at him as everyone else finished settling in. At the heads of the table, Louis had taken the seat between his mother and Ted, while Dominique sat opposite of him and took the seat between Victoire and her father. While Ted was being surprisingly quiet, both Dominique and Louis were being unsurprisingly quiet. Neither had even spoken a word since Victoire had walked into the dining room, and it seemed as if this was going to be the theme for the rest of the meal.

"'elp yourself," said her mother, grabbing immediately for the foie gras. "Everyone please eat, eat, eat."

"Everything looks really great," said Ted, wasting no time before he helped himself to bacon wrapped sausage.

"It does," agreed her father, nodding at Ted. "Incredible job as always, Fleur."

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, as both Victoire and Dominique reached out for the bowl of roasted potatoes at the same time. It was Victoire who had gotten to it first, edging Dominique out by half a second.

"Um, what are you doing?" asked Dominique.

Victoire held the bowl in mid-air. She had assumed what she was doing was fairly obvious. "Getting some potatoes?"

"But I get the first serving of potatoes," Dominique said obviously, extending her arm out to take the bowl from her. "I've always gotten the first helping. It's pretty much tradition."

It was true, she always had. When she was smaller she would only eat very particular looking potatoes; because of that, both of her parents had always let her have first crack before all of the potatoes that she considered edible or acceptable were gone. Of course, she'd well grown out of that phase, so it didn't even make sense to do it anymore.

Victoire stared at her, the bowl still raised in her hands. "You didn't seem to care too much about traditions this morning."

"What?"

"Nicki, we're not five-years-old anymore," she said plainly, bringing the bowl towards her. "Remember?"

Dominique scoffed. "Wait. Are you really upset that I went downstairs first? Is that what this is about?"

Victoire ignored her and instead spooned several helpings of potatoes onto her plate. She then turned to Ted with an overly enthusiastic smile. "Would you like some potatoes?"

"Victoire…" said her father.

"I'm just being polite," she said, handing the bowl off to Ted. "He's a guest."

"I'd like some," said Louis.

Dominique made clearly displeased throaty sounding noise before she took her fork and stabbed a brussel sprout with it. "Fine. I just won't eat potatoes, then."

"You're not going to eat potatoes because you weren't the first person to get some?" asked Louis. It was the first time Victoire had seen them either of them speak to each other since the night before.

"No, I just don't want any," Dominique snapped back.

He rolled his eyes. "Tu fais preuve d'une grande maturité," he muttered under his breath.

Victoire immediately glanced at her parents. Louis had sarcastically told Dominique that she was being very mature, though her father's limited French didn't seem to grasp that. He had looked directly at his wife to translate, who in turn was now staring wearily at Louis.

"Louis," said her mother in a silencing sort of way before she picked up her fork and continued to eat. She didn't seem to want to address things further, and instead she turned to Ted. "So, Teddy. I hear you went to Russia?"

Ted had been mid-chew when she had asked and forced himself to swallow. He seemed surprised to have been addressed. "Oh, um, yes. I did."

"What did you do zere?"

He glanced at Victoire before looking back across the table. "Well, work sends me because there's a fairly large dragon pox facility there. The Russians lead the world right now in developing newer treatments, so, um, they send a few of us over there to keep tabs on things and bring information back over here."

Her mother nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds very interesting."

Ted smiled a little. "Not really. It tends to bore people."

"Why are you working in dragon pox?" asked her father. "I thought you were all about curing werewolfism?"

"I am," Ted said, clearing his throat and refolding his napkin in his lap. "But, it's really hard to get the funds and the time to do your own personal research until you've gone and established yourself properly. Since I'm at the bottom of the ladder right now, I have to work my up before I can really delve into doing what I want to do."

"That's what all this dragon pox stuff is," Victoire added. "It's proving himself." She looked back at Ted and smiled. "And one day he'll go and cure it all."

He laughed modestly. "That is goal." He looked back at both her parents. "But, I do find some time here and there to work in werewolf studies. I won't get into the details since I'll put you all to sleep, but I have a theory that perhaps something in the Metamorphmagus gene structure may unlock a key in eliminating the lycanthropy completely."

"Lycan-what?" asked Dominique. "Do you really talk like that?"

"It's really just another term for the elements of werewolfism," said Ted, smirking at her. "And yes. I do."

Victoire smiled at him. It was probably very silly, but she secretly loved when he got particularly intellectual about things. It was certainly a turn on, and the fact that he was dressed as nice as he was right now certainly wasn't helping her to turn anything off. If only made her wish her family was elsewhere at the moment. Far, far away…

"Well, it all sounds very impressive," said her mother as she cut up a piece of turkey. "I barely understand a word of it, but I am sure it iz very complicated."

"You're saying," her father added, pointing his fork at Ted, "that you think something in your genes as a Metamorphmagus could cure werewolfism?"

"It's just a theory I have," Ted said. "It would take years to actually back it up."

"And I take it," he continued, "that you based this on the fact that you were born a Metamorphmagus and not a werewolf, correct?"

Ted seemed surprised to hear that. "Yeah. That's exactly where it stemmed from."

Her father hummed. "That's actually fairly brilliant."

Victoire glanced almost wide-eyed between her father and Ted. Not only did her father look rather fascinated by this entire conversation, but he also looked moderately impressed. Not to mention Ted, who seemed to be feeding off the fact that someone _was_ actually fascinated by it. When he usually got to talking about lycanthropy, antidotes, and viral samples, people generally didn't press him for more information than necessary. A simple, 'Oh that's nice," and a nod of the head generally sufficed before they moved on to talking about the weather.

"I wish I could claim I was the first to ever have the theory," Ted said, his entire quiet demeanor gone now. "Variations of it have been kicked around for ages now, it's just," he shrugged, "to my knowledge, I'm the first one to have it that also has the means to test it…you know, since I am a Metamorphmagus."

"Wouldn't that be something?" asked her father, leaning back in his chair and looking as if he was pondering the thought.

Victoire glanced back at Ted with a slightly awestruck expression. He threw her another quick smile, which made her wonder if he was thinking the same thing she was. This was certainly one way to win her father over.

"Well, I know one zing," said her mother, smiling fondly as Ted "Boz of your parents would be very, very, proud of you, Teddy. Zat I 'ave no doubt about."

"I'd say so," said her father. "Your dad would probably get a kick out of all of this."

Ted smiled. "I like to think they would be."

"You don't even have to think," said her father. "I knew them both well enough to know for a fact that they would be."

"Is this the part where you tell the story about the night Ted's dad came over to announce to everyone he'd been born?" Louis asked, smiling a little.

"No," said their father, throwing him a funny smile. "Apparently, I've told that story enough."

"It was a dark and stormy night…" Victoire joked.

"I have never started it like that…"

Victoire laughed and looked over at Ted to see that he was laughing a little himself. She moved her foot under the table and nudged his leg, which made him look at her. She smiled as if to silently say, _"See? Not so bad, huh?" _

She left her foot resting against his for the rest of dinner, which turned out to not be nearly as bad as she had anticipated. Sure, Louis and Dominique for the most part sat sourly on their ends of table—adding to the discussion here and there, but mostly silently observing—but it almost didn't matter. Once Ted dropped the oddly nervous act, she'd barely paid attention to them one way or the other; instead she'd enjoyed the fact that her parents seemed to be in a good mood, Ted seemed to be in a good mood, and she certainly was in a good mood. It was especially nice to see Ted finally act at ease around her parents, and it was equally as nice that they finally seemed to have accepted that this relationship was real and not just some sort of act. Those two things alone made all the crap Victoire had been put through that day completely worth it.

After pudding was had and crackers cracked—the later of which had made Victoire's ear ring after Dominique had opened hers right next to her ear without warning her of the cannon like boom—Victoire stood with her wand raised ready to help clear the table.

"No, Nic and Louis will do it," said her father, gesturing for Victoire to put her wand away. "They knew this before dinner started."

Both Dominique and Louis looked as if they had hoped her father had forgotten this detail, but they slowly started picking dishes up off the table one by one.

"Everything was really fantastic," said Ted, looking from her father to her mother. "Thank you for having me."

"It was a pleasure," said her mother with a look that seemed marginally pleased that it was all said and done; not to be work on again for an entire year.

Victoire looked back at Ted. "I still have to get you your present." She turned to her parents. "May we be excused so I can do that?"

"Yeah," her father nodded. "You two can go."

Victoire stood from the table, but hesitated moving any further. "It's upstairs."

Both her mother and father stared at her, seemingly wondering what that had to do with anything.

She looked back at Ted, who had stood to follow her, but had also stopped when she had. "Well, I…" She looked back at her parents. "Can he go up there with me so he can get it?"

"Why not just bring it downstairs?" her father asked.

Victoire shrugged. She didn't exactly know how to say it was because she'd like a few minutes of privacy with him without validating every reason her parents didn't want him up in her room in the first place. "It would be maybe five minutes."

"Why not just bring downstairs?" her father repeated.

"I don't see why you won't let us have boys upstairs," Dominique said, still piling dishes on top of dishes. "It's not like either of us are stupid enough to fool around with someone while you're literally downstairs and could walk in at any point."

Victoire inhaled sharply and noticed that Ted immediately looked in any direction but the one her parents were in. Putting mental pictures like that into her father's head was not going to help matters. The last thing she wanted either of her parents to think was that she even knew what the concept of fooling around meant. That was something she hoped they both remained blissfully ignorant about.

"Five minutes," said her mother as she stood from the table and began to help with the clean up.

"Door stays open," said her father, checking his watch. "Starting now."

Victoire blinked at the sheer suddenness of what had just transpired. Had they both actually—? She blinked again. She didn't have time to think about this; instead she looked at Ted and immediately nudged him towards the stairs.

He seemed a little hesitant, but didn't argue with her as she led the way towards her room.

"This is definitely been a strange little day," Ted said as he followed her into the all too familiar confines of her room—the very room that he used to be able to walk freely into whenever he damn well pleased, only to now be put on a time limit.

"Tell me about it," Victoire said, walking over to her desk to pick up the two wrapped presents she had gotten for him. "But we expected a little weirdness, right?"

"We expected something," he said, taking a seat on her bed.

"Thank you for being so patient with my family," she said as she stepped directly in front of him with the presents in her hands.

He smiled. "It wasn't so bad."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to do it. The fact that you did…"

"I know." He reached up and pulled the front of her jumped towards him so that there was barely a space left between where she stood and he sat. Without worrying who could walk by at any moment, Victoire didn't even hesitate to let herself fall into the motions of kissing him, even though she knew she really shouldn't have. With the mindset she was currently in—what with him looking as handsome as he did and being as patient as he was—she knew then that the kissing wouldn't be something she'd want to give up after a few seconds. She'd want it to keep going and going. She wouldn't be able to pull away.

And she couldn't. Once her lips were pressed against his that was all she cared about. She wasn't pulling away and he wasn't pulling away. In fact, the more seconds that ticked by, the more and more intense and hurried things became. It was the sort of kissing that should be leading to her pushing him down and climbing on top of him, but that couldn't happen; not here, not now. However, one thing was abundantly clear. Four months of pent up sexual frustration was still begging for a release.

"I think we've only got two and a half more minutes," she said a little breathlessly, pulling away from his mouth for just a second. "You should probably open something."

"This is pretty much all I want for Christmas," he said, pulling her face back towards his.

"Yes, but they're going to wonder," she said, finally tearing herself away from him. "When you go back down, they're going to wonder why you don't have anything."

Ted sighed heavily, his neat hair now unkempt and looking far more like he usually wore it. He nodded once. "You're right," he said, looking at the presents that were now down on the ground. Victoire wasn't quite sure when she had dropped them, but she watched as Ted reached down and picked them both up off the floor.

She went and took the seat beside him, running her hand through her own hair once she realized it too was messy frazzled. Her pulse had already been racing after what had just happened, but it accelerated even faster now that she knew he was finally going to see the gifts she'd put together for him.

"Happy Christmas," she added. "You're impossible to shop for."

He laughed a little. "So I'm told."

"I stayed up half the night finishing this," she said, pointing to it to the coupons, "because I didn't expect you back until tomorrow."

"You didn't have to do that."

"But I liked the way it turned out," she continued. "So," she smiled nervously, "I hope you like it."

Ted's smile turned curious the longer he watched her, but he said nothing as he focused on the larger of the two packages and examined it for the best place to tear at the wrapping paper. He hadn't even been holding it for three seconds before Victoire reached out and took it back from him.

"Open the smaller one first," she said, gesturing to the coupons.

He shrugged and reached for the smaller of the two, again inspecting it for the best place to tear at the paper. Victoire could hear her heart thumping in her ears as she watched him.

He'd tugged and pulled the last of the paper away, examining what lay before him. It was a small paper book, bound by twine and no bigger than his hand. He stared at the makeshift cover for a moment before reaching out to search its contents. Victoire's expression remained tentative as his eyes flickered over what was inside.

After a brief silence, he suddenly let out a short laugh as he stopped on one page in particular.

Victoire looked to see what he had read. It was the Quidditch one; the one allowing him to listen as many hours without complaint. "That one came to me after that one night back in September. Remember, you had the Wasps match on the Wireless, and it was probably the longest match in the history of the sport."

"Just seven hours," he said, still smiling.

"Exactly," she said. "I remember coming over and you telling me it had already been on for four, but when it kept going, I started getting antsy and asking you when you thought it would be done, and you started getting annoyed—"

"I wouldn't say I was annoyed…"

"Every time I talked you'd freak out that you'd just missed something," she countered, shaking her head. "If you weren't annoyed, I sure was. But yeah, the next time that happens," she pointed to the coupon, "now you've got that."

"That's fantastic," he said, flipping the page to the next one and reading what it said. Victoire couldn't tell which ones he was looking at, but he continued to smile as he flipped from one, to the next, to the next. As he neared the end, he suddenly stopped and scanned the current page a little more intently. Victoire knew just by where he was in book that it was the one Whit had made on the spot the night before concerning fooling around; the one Victoire had made five copies off with the suggested fine print and all.

Ted pulled the coupon up closer to his face to read the small, fine print lettering; a funny smile crawling over his face. "This one is definitely getting used. I'd use it right now if I could…"

"There are a few of those," she said, turning the last few pages for him. "I thought those would get some use."

He smirked as he continued to flip through the pages. "This will be very fun…"

"Yeah…I had a few others I was thinking about," she said, looking down at the ground. She thought about Whit's other idea for sex minded coupons; the ones Victoire hadn't had the courage to actually write down, even though she'd gone back and forth several times on whether she should last night. She wasn't sure why she even felt inclined to mention them to him, but she knew that in doing so it would create the opening she needed to let Ted know she was thinking about sex. She did want him to know she was thinking about it…

"Um, but anyway," she continued, looking back at the book in his hands, "I decided that those last ones were pretty all encompassing since they could always lead to,,," she looked back at him, "you know, _other_ stuff."

He didn't look up or even flinch, but instead continued absently scanning the pages. "Yeah."

His lack of any sort of reaction clearly said he wasn't picking up on what she was trying to insinuate here. She knew she was being entirely too vague, but she had been hoping he'd at least _sort of_ pick up on the hint that—

"Wait, what sort of other stuff are you talking about?" he asked suddenly, his head snapping towards her.

She laughed a little anxiously. Apparently, he had just needed a second. "Well, other stuff that I really should not be talking about when anyone in my family could walk in here," she gestured to the door, "at any minute." She looked back at him. "But it's something I think we should talk about…That I want to talk about."

Ted stared at her at little blankly, his expression now clearly saying he'd picked up _exactly_ where this was going.

"So, yeah…" She suddenly felt strangely awkward about how stupid this entire conversation was probably sounding. "I figured we could talk about that later. When we don't have to worry about people listening and…" She looked away from his face, knowing that she probably sounded ridiculous. Why had she brought this up like this?

"Vic."

"Oh!" she said before he could continue. She had remembered she was still holding his other present and immediately held it out to him, as if forcing him to take it. "Look. You still have to open this!"

He didn't take it. He was now watching her with an odd mix of curiosity and amusement.

"We've only got like thirty seconds before—"

Louis suddenly appeared in the door way and made a point of knocking while covering his eyes with his other free hand. "Everybody decent?"

"Ha, ha," Victoire mumbled.

He pulled his hand away from his eyes. "Dad said time is up."

Victoire rolled her eyes. She knew all too well that her father was being literal when he'd said five minutes, but she still hadn't wanted to believe he would actually time them.

"We've still got one more present," she said, pointing to Ted's second gift. "Tell him I need a few more minutes. Mention that you walked up here and we were behaving ourselves."

Louis stuck out his tongue in disgust. "Whether or not you were behaving yourself is not something I will ever discuss with Dad under any circumstance." He turned away. "Though, I will be nice and tell him you need a minute."

"Thank you!" Victoire called after him, glancing back at Ted. He had looked away when Louis walked in, but was now back to staring at her.

"Open it," she said, gesturing to the second gift. "If we've only got a minute, then we've really only got one minute."

Ted cracked a small smile before looking down at the gift in his hand. "I'm kind of preoccupied by what you…" He laughed. "We need to talk."

"And we will, but later." She pointed to the present for what felt like the tenth time. She really should have had him open it before she bridged any sex related issues. "In the meantime, this other gift will take your mind off things."

"I doubt that."

"No, it will," she said, her tone more serious than she had intended it to be.

He smiled. "You want to bet?"

She stared at him, knowing that this was a bet she could easily win. He'd be eating his words in just a minute's time. "Just open it."

Ted continued to smile, though he shook his head as if he thought she really didn't know what she was saying. However, with one solid rip, he tore at the paper and pulled it all off. What was left in his hands was a picture frame that was facing down.

"It's picture frame," he said blankly. He examined it for a half a second before looking back at Victoire. "Yeah, that didn't work. I'm still thinking about—."

"With a picture," she interrupted, watching his face tentatively. She could feel her heart thumping loudly in her chest. She just wanted him to see it already.

He flipped it over to look at front of the frame properly, and, just as she had anticipated, the smile he had on his face quickly slipped away. His gaze hardened before he pulled the fame up to get a closer look. "That's…"

"I know," Victoire said, smiling slowly as she watched him.

Staring back at him from within the depth of the frame below were Ted's parents; both of them standing together, fully in frame, waving back at him. His mother was beaming, her bright bubble gum pink hair standing out clearly from everything else in the photo. His father was smiling more subtlety. It was a smile and a look that had reminded her of Ted when he was tired, or when he was attempting to put on a brave face. She'd seen him muster the same smile a hundred times in the past.

"Where did you get this?" he finally asked.

"It's from my parents' wedding," she said as she stared at the photo with him. "My grandparents had this big box of wedding photos that they'd been keeping for ages, but just recently gave to my mum for her twentieth wedding anniversary in August. I only just found it, and when I was going through it, I found this photo." She pointed at the photo in his hand. "And there's a few more…"

She reached behind him and over to her desk, where she picked up the other five photographs she had found in that box that had somehow featured Ted's parents. They weren't as prominent as the one she had framed, but they were in them—sitting at a table, talking with other people, laughing at a joke, standing in the background. Victoire had scanned the entire box and taken every photo that they had appeared in and plucked them out.

Ted gaped, his eyes immediately settling on the ones she had just handed him. In the span of five minutes, he'd gone from having barely one photo of his parents together to having a handful.

"I cannot believe…" he said, his tone sounding far away.

"I know," Victoire said.

His eyes focused on one photo in particular—of them standing just barely in the foreground near the dance floor—before he let a small laugh escape him. "My dad looks annoyed in this one."

"I saw that too. I wonder what was on his mind."

"My mum's glowing," he said fondly, swallowing hard. "Look at her."

"She's beautiful," Victoire said as she fed of Ted's obvious excitement. "But you know why though, right?"

"Why, what?"

"Why she's glowing," she said obviously. "All you have to do is do the math."

He glanced back at her.

Victoire rolled her eyes, but continued smiling. "My parents got married on August 1st 1997. You were born in April of 1998." She motioned to the photo. "She's glowing because of you, Ted, because she's pregnant with you. Fairly early on, I might add."

He didn't say anything, but a small smile cracked the longer he stared at the photos.

"Technically," Victoire continued, "all three of you are in that photo." She pointed at Ted's mother's stomach. "You're somewhere in there."

"This is…" He gaped. He looked lost for words.

"I know." Victoire smiled again. "Happy Christm—"

"Vic!" called the voice of her father.

"Fine!" Victoire yelled back, her eyes rolling involuntary as she quickly stood from the bed. "We're coming!" She glanced back at Ted. "I cannot wait until I can—"

She didn't get to finished that thought. Ted had grabbed her arm, pulled her back, and kissed her so avidly, taken her so suddenly off her guard, that for the first time in her life she actually felt as if her knees could buckle from underneath her.

"Yeah," Ted said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to need a few more minutes…"


	30. Trials and Errors

Being back at the hospital was not Ted's idea of a good time. He'd have never figured that the impact of having his girlfriend home for just a few days would make him so desperately want to play hooky and skip out on work, but that is exactly what had happened; that's exactly what he wanted to do.

It was a damn shame that he had to be back at work already, seeing as Christmas had been so fantastic. Sure, it had been a little stressed in parts, but it had also been sort of fun; getting to spend it with Victoire had been worth any weird awkwardness he may have encountered along the way. Not to mention that things certainly picked up after she had given him with those photographs of his parents. Here he had gone and convinced himself that no more even existed outside of the ones he already had, but sure enough, Victoire had proven him wrong. She had found and given him something that was literally priceless in value, as far as he was concerned…

And he'd gotten her a stupid cookbook because he thought it was funny.

He rolled his eyes and returned his focus back to his desk, where he sat lazily stamping patient file after patient file once he was sure that each was properly annotated and documented. There were hundreds of them—a year's worth— and it was the absolute dullest, most monotonous part of his job next to brewing elementary potions that a first-year student at Hogwarts could make. However, it being boring didn't change the fact that the task had to get done by the end of every year, and there wasn't a researcher in this hospital who didn't put this very job off until the last possible minute.

This was his last minute.

He sighed as he continued to stamp; his hand now hurting from the recurrent back and forth motion of hitting the ink pad and then hitting the file with St. Mungo's seal. All around him, it was especially quiet in the lab today, which was strange considering all the chaos and holiday related injuries echoing throughout the rest of the hospital. Hour after hour, hordes and hordes of people continued to pour into St. Mungo's with various ailments and grievances, most of which had been caused by some new present or gadget they had received in days before. People were bruised, broken, burnt, black and blue, and beaten. Children were crying, adults were yelling, and all of them were jumping from various levels of mild crankiness to severe irritation. It was days like this that made Ted happy he worked primary with the diseased instead of the physically afflicted.

With a bored yawn, he put his stamp down to rub his wrist and checked the clock. It was nearly six in the afternoon, so he only had an hour before he was done for the day. Then he could relax and enjoy an evening off—

He immediately cringed, suddenly remembering that he already had plans for after work. He had to meet Simon at Twilfit & Tatting's for a wedding dress robe fitting. He'd almost forgotten entirely.

Ted groaned to himself as he pulled out a small calendar that he kept in his desk drawer to double check the date and make positively sure it was today. It wasn't the actual fitting itself that bothered him, but more the fact that it all tied into Simon's wedding and the fact that it was now only three days away. That meant things were going to get busy; that meant he was soon going to be inundated by wedding junk.

With a quick scan of his desk calendar, sure enough, Ted saw that had scribbled the words _dress robe fitting for wedding_—with a goofy little skull and crossbones picture drawn next to it—under Wednesday the 28th.

He stared curiously at what he'd written for a moment longer, having thought today was Thursday. He wasn't sure where he'd gotten Thursday instead of Wednesday into his head, but it almost certainly had something to do with being away from work the last few days. Any time Ted fell off his regular routine, he always came back not even knowing what day of the week it was. It would probably take him an entire week to adapt again.

But he didn't have a week. He had to get into gear _now_. This entire wedding had snuck up on him before he could even place where the time had gone. Everything was staring him in the face at this point. On Sunday evening, there would be a wedding; on Saturday night, Simon was expecting one hell of a stag party, courtesy of his best man.

The party, which Ted had just barely finished planning that morning thanks in part to things being so slow here at work, was finally set to go. After procrastinating much longer than he should have, Ted had taken most of the day to finish up various last minute tasks; he'd owled everyone Simon had asked to be there, he'd set up a flexible sort of itinerary for the night's festivities, and he'd made sure everything was in order for hangover potions for the morning after. After weeks and weeks of being lazy with the details, he could stop worrying about how he was going to get all of Simon's wedding stuff done in addition to work, in addition to going Russia, and in addition to Victoire coming home. He'd actually pulled it off. Now, all he had left to do was get fitted for a stupid dress robe and he'd be—

The door to the lab opened suddenly and in walked Nate and Durrin, a cup of coffee clutched in both of their hands.

"Still stamping?" Durrin asked, glancing at the workload on Ted's desk.

Ted shrugged. "I'm taking a break. I'm trying working out the rest of my week. I've got so much to do and no time to do it."

"Story of my life," said Nate as he abruptly stopped in his tracks to keep the lab door from slamming shut behind him. He looked down at his coffee. "Damn it, I forgot to grab…" He turned and disappeared back into the hallway without another word.

Durrin and Ted exchanged curious looks at his sudden departure, though neither bothered to comment on it. Durrin merely shrugged and crossed the room towards his own desk. "Got a busy week, then?"

"Yeah," Ted said. "I've got a wedding this weekend where I'm the best man, then I planned a stag party for Saturday night, and then…" He stopped, knowing there was a third thing, but not immediately recognizing what it. What was he forgetting?

"Then what?" Durrin asked.

"I…" He racked his brain. It was something important, too, but with all this wedding stuff, he couldn't remember what it— it hit him. Victoire's birthday. Her birthday was the 30th. Obviously, her birthday was the 30th. He knew that. "Then my girlfriend's birthday."

Durrin laughed as he dropped into his chair. "You may not want to forget that one."

Ted smirked. "I didn't forget. I'm just so scattered brained lately with this wedding that it slipped my mind for a second."

Durrin laughed. "Yeah, I wouldn't let it do that either. Not even for a second. You want to make sure you know exactly what day it's on."

"I know what day it's on."

"Yeah? What day's it on?"

Ted turned to stare at him, the answer not immediately clear to him. "It's…" He looked away to consider that for a moment. What day was the 30th? "It's on…Friday." He furrowed his brow. "Right?"

"I have no idea when your girlfriend's birthday is."

"It's Friday," Ted repeated to himself, though he immediately reached for his calendar again and flipped it open to the month of December. Scanning through the weeks, he landed on the 30th and let his finger trail up to where the days were labeled. It was on Friday, just as he suspected.

He turned back to Durrin, holding up the calendar as he did. "Yeah, see. The 30th is on Friday. I knew it. I've looked at this thing a hundred times over the last month."

Durrin grinned a little before he leaned comfortably back in his chair. "Just as long as you know. Rumor has it that girls don't take kindly when their significant others forget their birthday."

"I think I heard that somewhere," Ted laughed.

"So, you planned a stag party, huh?"

"Yeah, at the Dragon's Breath," he said. "This Saturday."

"So, you've got a birthday on Friday, a stag party on Saturday, and then a wedding on Sunday?" Durrin asked. "You are busy."

"Tell me about it," Ted muttered, standing from his chair to put the files he had finished stamping back in their proper cabinet. "Hopefully it will all turn out all right."

"Hey, did you ever pick up that Vanishing Sickness file from the ground floor nurses' station?"

Ted sigh and shook his head, remembering he had meant to do that earlier, but then forgetting to actually do it. He was really letting this after-holiday scatterbrain get to him. He needed to focus already.

"No, but I can go and grab it now," Ted mumbled, glancing towards the door. "Is it still a chaos downstairs with all the people?"

"It's a madhouse," Durrin said, leaning further back in his chair. "People lined up everywhere begging for treatment." His face suddenly lit up. "But hey! You have to hear what I heard while I was downstairs. There was this nurse saying that this old bloke had come in claiming pain in his abdomen, right? Well, they did a routine Inspection Spell and it turns out, he'd stuck an entire wand up his arse. He tried pulling it out, but it snapped in half on its way, so the other half got completely lodged up there."

Ted snorted a laugh.

"I swear this happened."

"I don't doubt it," Ted said, walking over to pull on a ward robe over his regular robes. "You wouldn't believe some of the stories I've heard about people sticking the most random things up their—"

"Working hard, I see," said Hazel's all too recognizable voice. She was standing in the doorway of the lab with her arms crossed across her chest; a smug smile and a superior air about her that was even more evident than usual. Then again, nowadays Ted rarely saw her with how little their schedules crossed paths, so maybe this was just how she was lately.

She gestured to the door. "Who left the door open?"

"Nate," said Durrin.

Even though she asked the question, she didn't seem to care about the answer. She instead glanced at Ted. "Long time, no see, Ted. It seems like we're always working opposite shifts."

"Seems that way," Ted said, still noticing that something unusually forced about the way she was addressing him.

She uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her side before she took another step inside. In the flash of a moment, her youthful, baby looking face suddenly filled with a very adult like intensity. "How was Russia?"

Ted and Durrin immediately exchanged looks. The absolute last person who could ever know that they'd cut their Russian trip short was Hazel. The repercussions of her knowing would be loud and obnoxious. They'd probably be lectured, scolded, and tattled on. Ted would have much rather faced his actual boss's wrath than Hazel's.

Durrin shrugged. "Fine."

Hazel nodded thoughtfully before taking another step inside. She began inspecting her surroundings with a strange curiosity, as if she'd never been there before. "So, what happened? See anything interesting? Anything new?"

"Same old, same old," Ted said blankly. "We did the sample tour of their labs. We saw some of their recent findings…" He looked at Durrin for added support.

"We went to a few lectures," he added.

"We did." Ted nodded. "We listened to lectures."

Hazel stared at them both, her expression begging the question, _"And?"_ though she didn't ask it. She merely stared between the two of them, waiting to see who would speak next. Luckily for the both of them, the tension was disrupted by the door once again opening and Nate reentering with several packs of sugar in his hand.

"Forgot them," he said, holding up the sugar before gesturing to his coffee. After a beat pause, he seemed to sense something was off in the room, and his eyes quickly landed on Hazel. "You don't work today."

"I had to come in and do the schedule," she said, throwing him a funny look. "We were all just talking about your trip to Russia."

Nate's face quickly fell. "Were you now?"

"We were."

From behind Hazel, Durrin was waving his hands madly, as if trying to signal Nate and tell him that she didn't know the truth and not to say anything. Hazel seemed to sense this immediately because turned just in time to catch Durrin with his arms awkwardly above his head. He suddenly pretended to be stretching.

Nate sighed and put his coffee cup down. "You said you weren't going to do this."

Hazel shrugged. "Do what?"

"You've told me repeatedly over the last three days that you weren't going to do this."

Ted quickly looked at Durrin, who was already mouthing, "Three days?" Three days ago was Christmas. If those two had, for some reason, talked on Christmas, then Hazel already knew that they'd come home early; their secret was already out. That meant she had been screwing with Durrin and him in an attempt to purposely goad them into denying it so she could trap them in their lie.

"I'm not doing anything, Nate," Hazel said, shrugging once more.

Nate rolled his eyes, but picked his coffee up and walked back over to his desk. "I hate when you do this."

"Do what?"

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Both Nate and Hazel stared at each other strangely, as if they were having a staring contest of epic proportions. Ted had no idea what exactly was going on, but there was an explosiveness in both of their demeanors that made him want to avoid any sort of outburst that was about to occur. He glanced back at Durrin just to make sure he wasn't imagining things, and sure enough, he, too, looked as if he suddenly wanted to be anywhere else but here.

"Um," Durrin said uncomfortably, gesturing towards the door. "I should probably go collect some viral samples downstairs."

"Yeah…" Ted agreed. "I've got to run down to the ground floor and pick up that Vanishing Sickness file so—"

"I know you all left Russia early," Hazel said flatly. "You can drop the act."

Nate scoffed loudly and turned away while Durrin let his head drop dejectedly. For Ted, hearing that had made it feel as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. He glared at the back of Nate's head, wondering why the one person who had been_ so_ adamant about them not going by the hospital over Christmas had done exactly that; he'd let himself get seen by Hazel, of all people.

"What makes you think we—?" asked Durrin.

"She knows, Durrin," said Nate, turning back around to face the group. "Give it a rest."

Hazel shook her head. "I just can't believe you three would—"

"_You_ can give it a rest, too," Nate said sharply, his eyes back on her. He looked angry, though Ted couldn't figure out what _he_ had to be angry about. He'd been the one who had given them away in the first place, so he knew this was coming. It was him and Durrin who should have been mad.

Hazel avoided Nate's eyes this time and instead stared straight at Ted. "And you were the brains behind it?"

"Hazel," Ted said, attempting to sound diplomatic, "you know as well as I do that we didn't have to be there for as long as we'd planned."

"It doesn't matter."

"Are you going to tell Herbertson?" asked Durrin.

She considered that, all the while seemingly enjoying the hold she suddenly had over them. "You know. I haven't decided yet."

"Oh, shut up," Nate spat. "You damn well know you won't. Why in the hell are you putting them through this?"

"How do you know I won't?" Hazel snapped back. "Keep acting like this and I will!"

This time, Durrin was the one who glanced at Ted, and Ted looked right back at him with the same look of confusion that he had on his face. What the hell was going on here? This did not seem like a typical Nate and Hazel argument.

Without another word, Nate suddenly grabbed his coffee cup and walked straight out of the room; the door slamming loudly behind him. A stack of files that had been sitting on a table next to the entrance way toppled to the ground.

Hazel rolled her eyes, though she was frowning slightly now; she didn't look nearly as smug as when she'd walked in. However, that only lasted a second, for when she met Ted's eyes her gaze became just as self-righteous as before. "It's not my fault you all skipped out early and got found out. If you get in trouble, you can't put this one me."

"Look," Ted said impatiently, not feeling as though he should have to put up with her pretentious superiority for one minute longer than necessary. "If you're going to do it, then just do it. Tell Herbertson and he can tear us new arseholes." He pointed between Durrin and him, and then towards the door to indicate Nate. "Remember, that's his job, not yours."

She stared at him.

"Do whatever you have to do," Ted added, all while attempting to maintain a cool demeanor. He still secretly hoped she would keep her mouth shut, even though he knew the situation was out of his control. The only thing he could offer was a fake attempt at acceptance. Hopefully, if he pretended like this wasn't a big deal to them, he may convince her that it wasn't.

"I'd really appreciate if you didn't," Durrin said, cutting through the silence. "It can't be good to get written up your first year."

"It isn't," Hazel said, still staring at Ted. "And I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I haven't decided. Though, honestly, Ted, I don't know why you're always on the defensive these days."

He blinked. Was she serious?

"It's really gotten annoying, to be quite honest," she added.

That had done it.

"_I'm_ always on the defensive because _you_ say things like, '_I don't know what I'm going to do yet'_ to hold everything over our heads," he said as his tone steadily grew louder. "You always feel the need to exert your non-existent power over anyone who may just be the slightest bit below you."

"Oh, please…"

"Durrin?" asked Ted, pointing to him as if to validate his point.

Durrin nodded, but just barely.

"We're supposed to be a team, but you're always acting like—" He stopped and stared directly in her eyes; the urge to final just say exactly what he was thinking—what they were all thinking—forcing its way out of him. "Honestly, Hazel, if you weren't on a power trip, I think your head would explode."

Durrin's eyes went wide. His expression was all but screaming that he didn't that that comment was going to help their case.

But Ted really didn't care. He knew he should care, but he didn't. For some reason, Nate's little walk out had inspired him to say exactly what was on his mind. He was tired of arguing with Hazel every time he saw her because she thought she was better than everyone else. If him getting written up and reprimanded was the consequence of finally speaking his piece, then so be it.

"Do whatever you want," Ted muttered without waiting to hear anything further from her. He turned on the spot and walked straight out of the room, down the corridor towards the lifts. His pulse was still racing as he boarded the first available one.

He pushed the button to go to the ground floor and steadied himself again the wall as the lift lurched itself downward, though this only lasted for a moment. It had come to a stop on the first floor, where two Healers in lime green robes boarded first, both of whom were laughing about some party they'd been to over Christmas. Behind them, a third, much more familiar face followed after.

Elizabeth hadn't noticed Ted as she stepped onto the lift, but that was mostly due to her face being buried in a large, magenta folder that she seemed to be reading. On any other day, Ted would have been happy to see her, but given his now foul mood, he was more resentful of the fact that he'd probably need to make small talk.

However, Elizabeth seemed lost in thought; even after the lift doors had shut, she still hadn't noticed him standing there. She merely continued to stare into her folder, her expression strained and awkward. She seemed to be trying to work something out in her head.

"Your face will freeze that way if you keep making that face," Ted muttered as the lift lurched once again.

Both she and the two Healers looked at him, though the latter returned to their previous conversation almost immediately. Elizabeth mustered a small smile, but quickly looked back at her folder.

"At this rate, I won't be surprised." She looked back up at him. "Actually, you would know. How many Jobberknoll feathers would you add to a super infused Memory Potion?"

"It depends on the strength of the potion."

She smirked. "Which is why I said super infused."

"Oh." She had said that, hadn't she? "Um, you'd want to try at least fourteen."

She made a quick note in her folder before she shut it and placed her quill behind her ear. "Thank you much. That just saved me time from having to check my textbooks."

He made a noncommittal noise.

"You seem like you're in a fantastic mood," she said, looking him up and down.

Ted shrugged as he braced himself for the lift to stop. "I just had a row with Hazel."

"And the sky is blue," Elizabeth said. "What else is new?"

Ted forced a tepid smile. "I don't know why I let her get under my skin, but," he shrugged as the lift stopped on the last floor, where the door opened to reveal a crowd of people looking to board, "I always do. Especially lately."

"It's not worth the hassle to let her get to you," Elizabeth said, working her way through the crowd and out into the more open corridor. "What's she on about this time?"

Ted followed her, attempting to dodge the mass of the crowd fighting their way onto the lift. "You know how we usually send a few of us to Russia right before Christmas?"

She nodded.

"Well, this year, we sort of cut the trip short and came home early. And we didn't tell anyone that we were doing that."

"Oh," Elizabeth said, walking over to where the nurses' station sat just behind the main hospital information desk. "And you weren't supposed to do that?"

"It's not as if staying would have done us any good," he said matter-of-factly. "But, it's more a matter of us not telling anyone and taking it upon ourselves."

"I see," Elizabeth said, dropping the folder she'd be carrying with her on the nurses' counter before leaning herself up against it. "And now Hazel knows, so she's being Hazel and holding it against you?"

"Exactly."

"You know if you just let her have her little power plays, knowing that they don't mean anything in the grand scheme of things, you'd probably get along a lot better."

"That's easy for you to say," he mumbled. "You don't have to see her or deal with her anymore. You're safe down here on the floor where people break wands up their arses."

"Did you hear about that?" Elizabeth asked, grinning suddenly. "It happens more often than it should, but still it still always makes me laugh. I mean, how thick can you get to stick your wand of all things up there?" She lowered her voice. "It left splinters, you know."

Ted cringed.

"I know. I'm just happy I didn't have to be the one to pull them out. I got lucky because a little boy who'd swallowed his bag of Gobstones came in at the same time, so I was put on him." She made a funny face. "I'm clearly in this for the glamour."

"Aren't we all," he muttered.

Elizabeth laughed before her eyes suddenly traveled behind Ted and towards the waiting room just yards away. She grinned a little before pointing. "Well, then. You might as well cheer up now. Looks like you have a visitor."

"I do?" he asked, just as someone poked him in the back. When he turned around, he had half expected to see someone mistaking him for a Healer and begging for medical attention that he couldn't give, or even a nurse telling him he was in the way and needed to move. What he did see was probably one of the very last things he expected to be standing in front of him at the hospital.

"You weren't hard to find," said Victoire with a quick smile. "They told me I had to go upstairs, but yet, here you are."

"What—I mean, hi," said Ted, sounding more than surprised to see her. "What are you doing here?"

"_Someone_ fell off their broom and smashed their leg," she said, gesturing to the waiting area. "I'll give you one guess to which sister of mine it was."

Ted looked behind her, but didn't see anything. "Did she really?"

Victoire nodded her head. "Yup. My mum tried to fix it with a spell, but she's always so overcautious. She wants to get it looked at, so" she shrugged, "here we are. I just tagged along to come and say hello. You're almost done with your shift, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah." He nodded. "I've got a little less than an hour."

She smiled, though her eyes suddenly darted to Elizabeth, who was still standing nearby and watching the two of them. Almost instantly Victoire's eyes went wide with recognition; she seemed startled by the fact that she hadn't noticed her standing there sooner. "Elizabeth?"

She smiled. "Hi, Victoire."

"I didn't even see you!" Victoire said, laughing a little. "It's been ages."

"It has," Elizabeth agreed. "Not since I left school. How have you been?"

"Great," she said enthusiastically, looking her up and down. "You're a Healer now?"

"Oh, I'm still in training," said Elizabeth. "I've still got a few years before I can officially call myself one of those."

"How mad," she said, still laughing a little. "You know. I've actually been thinking about getting into Healing myself."

Elizabeth glanced at Ted. "And you haven't talked her out of it? Save the poor girl before she signs her life away to this place."

Victoire had laughed at that, though Ted merely forced a self-conscious smile. He couldn't help but wonder if there was certain unplaced awkwardness written all over his face. Mixing his personal life with his work life was odd to him; it was something he always tried to avoid to the best of his abilities. Victoire and his friends from outside of the hospital mixing the ones that were inside the hospital made things feel out of place and weirdly chaotic; particularly since Victoire happened to be talking to the one person he had any sort of real past with. He knew he wasn't cool enough to act as if Elizabeth standing there talking to Victoire didn't at least make him a little nervous, even if he knew Elizabeth wasn't about to say anything. She had no reason to, and she probably didn't even care. So, why did this entire situation make him feel awkward?

"So, what else have you been up to?" Elizabeth continued, still addressing Victoire. "Besides the obvious." She gestured to Ted.

"Nothing, really," Victoire said, throwing Ted a quick smile. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how seventh-year can be."

Elizabeth made noise of agreement. "I actually found out not too long ago from Ted, here, that you were still in school. I always thought for some reason you were right below me."

Victoire shrugged. "People have always said that. I think it's because of a lot of the people I used to be friends with were older, so...."

Ted slowly began to inhale.

"That's probably it," Elizabeth said, looking back at Ted before focusing back on Victoire. "Well, can I just say that I think it's very sweet that you two are together? Because they way Ted used to go on about you before you were together—"

"You used to talk about me?" Victoire asked him suddenly, still smiling. "Here I went and had the impression that it was all some big secret."

"Well, he kept your name a secret, but he'd go on about 'this girl'," Elizabeth said, sounding amused. She glanced back at Ted. "Remember how you would— are you blushing?"

Ted knew he probably was, though not for any of the reasons either of them suspected.

"You are a little red," said Victoire, matching Elizabeth's amusement.

"Well, then," Elizabeth laughed, rounding back on Victoire. "If he blushes _that _easily, let me embarrass him further. I don't know if he ever told you—"

Ted's body immediately tensed.

"—but while we were in Russia a few months back, he and I got to talking about this girl he was mad about, but how he didn't know how to tell her because they were friends. He didn't want to ruin things, but he'd clearly fallen for her. I didn't find out until months later that the girl was you, but it was all so very cute."

"Really?" Victoire asked, a little laugh escaping her as she looked back at Ted. "I'd never heard that."

"Uh, yeah," Ted said with a nod.

"He was clearly smitten," Elizabeth said, checking her watch before her face fell. "Oh, blerg! I was supposed to meet with my Healing supervisor five minutes ago." She reached over the nurses' station and hastily pulled up a stack of folders before turning back to Victoire. "It was so nice to see you, Vicki. It's been too long." She smiled. "Take care of yourself."

"You too!" Victoire said, matching her enthusiasm.

Elizabeth looked back at Ted. "And you," she shrugged, "I can't escape, so I'll see you when I see you."

"Yup," he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Elizabeth smiled once more at Victoire before she headed off down to the patients' ward and out of sight. It had taken a moment, but eventually Ted could feel the blood rushing back through his extremities once she disappeared from view. He exhaled a deep breath now. Of course, the situation had turned out exactly as he assumed it would and he had worried himself over nothing, but it was still more than a relief now that it was over.

"I didn't even know you two knew each other," Victoire said after a moment, gesturing in the direction Elizabeth had disappeared off to. "But not only do you know each other, you seem like your fairly good friends."

"Work friends," he said quickly. "We don't hang out outside of work or anything. We just talk around here— and even then, only occasionally. We work in entirely different departments."

Victoire nodded, and Ted took the opportunity to distract himself by jumping behind the nurses' station in search of the Vanishing Sickness file he'd come down here for in the first place.

"It's actually rather funny," Victoire said, watching him from the other side as he searched through a cupboard filled with folders.

"What is?"

"Well, remember back in school? You used to practically be in love with her and now your friends." She smiled and chuckled. "Maybe I should be worried?"

"Stop it," he said, not sounding amused in the slightest. That had rubbed him the wrong way since it had almost sounded as if she doubted him for some reason. He knew that it wasn't really the case, but whatever the context of her comment was, the result had stung his already poor mood.

"I'm kidding, Ted," Victoire said. "It was a joke. I'm not _really_ worried."

He didn't answer her. He had found the file he'd been looking for smashed in the middle of a large stack of other folders. He began tugging at it, but stopped once the folders that were piled on top began to topple from the force of his pull. Several dropped and scattered all over the floor, which caused him to swear under his breathe. He couldn't help but wonder why his day had suddenly decided to go to shit.

"Ted?" asked Victoire.

"I know you were kidding," he said as he bent over to clean up his mess, tossing several folders haphazardly up onto the counter as he did. "It's just…I'm having a shitty day. I got in a stupid fight earlier, I'm looking at getting written up for cutting my Russian trip short, and—" He stopped and stood up straight to meet her eyes "You throw that word around too much."

"Throw what word around too much?"

"Love. Saying I was in love with so and so," he mumbled. "You said the same thing about Celia—"

Victoire laughed a little, but stopped when she saw he was being serious. "I said that about Celia because you had told me you thought you were. Those words came out of your mouth."

"Yeah, well, thinking I was in love with her, and being in love with you, and," he pointed down the hallway to where Elizabeth had disappeared, "fancying someone when I was fourteen are completely different things. Just so you know."

Victoire stared at him, but tentatively nodded.

He looked away from her and back at the mess of folders he'd created. He was all too aware that he was technically lying considering he had fancied Elizabeth only a year ago—not just when he was fourteen—but the point was he'd never been in love with her. Victoire didn't need to know the details, just the overall picture. He'd only been in love once; that was with her.

"Sorry," she said, standing up straighter and making her face serious. "I was only kidding around, but now I know better. I won't joke about it anymore if it bothers you."

He sighed. "It's not that you can't joke, it's just…" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of the best way to phrase this without taking his bad mood out on her. Perhaps he was a little touchy considering he'd slept with Elizabeth and hearing Victoire make jokes about the matter unnerved him. Sure, they were jokes now, but if he ever did want to tell her the truth about what had happened, the last thing he wanted was for her mind to suddenly turn those jokes into some sort of warped reality; for her to actually be worried about something was now totally insignificant. "Look. I love you, okay? You and you alone. Just know that."

Victoire smiled a little. "I do know that."

He took a deep breath. "I'm just having a shitty day."

"I now know that, too."

He cracked a small smile, but walked back around the counter towards her. "I'm sorry. You just caught me at a bad time."

"We're all allowed to have our bad days, sweetheart."

He stopped and blinked. "Did you just call me sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I'm trying it out," she offered. "We'll see if it sticks. If it doesn't, I can come up with something else."

Surprisingly—especially since Ted didn't think he had it in him—he found himself genuinely laughing at that. That was of course Victoire's specialty. She always tended to bring these sorts of reactions out of him, even when he was fighting with all his might to be crotchety and irritable. It was one of the many reason he loved her. She always managed to help him to overcome himself.

"And when I joke about you being in love with other people," she added, obviously looking to piggyback on the break in his foul demeanor. "I'm completely kidding."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

She smiled. "But trust me. I'm not worried about you and Elizabeth Cole, or any girl for that matter."

"Why would you be worried about him and Elizabeth Cole?" said Dominique, who had appeared just behind them with a bandage wrapped around her hand. She was bracing herself against a crutch, though her smashed leg looked as though it had been repaired properly. Just beyond her, Fleur was talking to a nurse and pointing back to Dominique.

"I'm _not _worried," Victoire said. "Which is why I said I _wasn't_."

Dominique looked confused. "What?"

"How about you stop butting into other people's conversations and then you wouldn't have questions?" Victoire suggested.

"I can't help that I overheard you telling him that you're not worried about him and Cole," said Dominique. "Come on Vic, how can I not comment on that? The idea alone is completely laughable."

Ted made a face. It was probably because he was in a confrontational mood to being with and simply wasn't in the proper disposition to just let it go, but he decided to push this. "Wait, why is that laughable?"

"Oh, come on, Ted…" Dominique said, as if he was asking the most obvious question known to man.

"Come on, what?"

"You and Elizabeth Cole?" She laughed. "I mean, if Victoire wasn't in the picture, you actually think that would ever…?" She shook her head and laughed again.

Ted face twisted into a mixture of being insulted and confused at the same time. Why did people keep saying that?

"Vic," Dominique said, gesturing to her sister, "you know what I mean, don't you?"

"No," said Victoire. "Sorry, but I'm not going to stand here and picture which girls he can and cannot get. That would be weird."

"You're missing the point," Dominique said. "Pretend you're not together. Do you really think he could pull a girl like her?"

"What does 'like her' mean?" Ted asked.

"That super pretty, really clever, overly popular—"

He pointed at Victoire.

"That's only because you've got eons of history together," Dominique muttered.

"Yes," Victoire said sarcastically. "That's obviously the _only_ reason…"

"I don't mean anything against you, Ted" Dominique said airily, as though Ted was simply missing the point of some funny joke. "If anything, it's against that type of girl. The guys they dates are those dumb, oafish, pretty boy Quidditch player types who don't have much of a thought in their head—"

"Says the girl who goes off around school snogging a pretty boy Quidditch player," said Victoire.

"Ah, but I don't date them!" Dominique countered. "And Davies really isn't what I'd consider a pretty boy. His nose is rather crooked when you really look at it."

"I wouldn't know," said Victoire dryly. "I've never been close enough to his face to examine it in detail."

"Don't get me wrong," Dominique said, now looking at Ted. "Those kinds of girls would benefit from guys like you if they opened their eyes. I mean, look at Vic. If not for you she'd still have her head stuck up the arses of stupid boys like—"

"Okay, you can go now," Victoire spat.

Dominique made a face, but looked as if she didn't need to be told twice. She turned on the spot and hobbled away on her newly repaired leg; all the way back to where her mother was still talking to nurse at the front.

"Ug, ignore her," Victoire said once she was gone. "She just likes to stir things up. I'm starting to become convinced that she gets off on conflict."

Ted shrugged, though, strangely enough, the conversation had actually improved his mood rather than the opposite. Dominique could try and instigate all she wanted, but he knew the truth. He was full of more surprises than she or any of them knew. Not that it mattered, of course, but he was. That was just a fact.

He looked back at Victoire, who now had a sense of uncertainty in her expression. He could tell she was searching his face for whether or not he was more or less angry than he had been before Dominique had come over. It was actually very cute how much she seemed to care about his mood.

"Just so you know," Ted joked, smiling a little. "I can get all sorts of girls..."

Victoire laughed, but looked more relieved than anything. "I know."

"I got you."

"You certainly did."

"And people said that wouldn't happen."

"They did?"

Actually, the few people he had told had been quite supportive of the idea, but he assumed if he had actually told more people, their opinions would probably have been far more mixed.

"I'm just saying…" he added.

"Well, I'm truly lucky," she said, her tone playful. "I beat out the _hundreds_ of girls out there ready to queue up to be with you."

"You did," he joked.

"And yet, little, old, me got picked," she said, trying to hide her smile. "Whatever did I do to deserve _such_ an honor?"

Ted smiled and looked away. "Okay, now you're just trying to be a brat."

She laughed. "I am not."

He didn't look back at her, but merely shrugged and continued to smile to let her know he'd heard her.

"You're going out with Simon after work, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"To get your dress robes fitted?"

He nodded again.

"It's about time you got that done."

He nodded again.

"And…you've decided to stop talking all of a sudden," she said. "You're just going to stand there and nod?"

He smirked and shrugged.

"Okay, then," she said, pursing her lips. "Well, I'm sure you'll have fun trying on dress robes."

He made a doubtful face.

"Aw, it's not that bad," she said lazily, glancing over to where her mother and sister were still standing. "You know, I still can't believe his wedding just days away." She paused for a long moment. "I never did get invited."

Ted pointed at himself.

She scrunched up her nose in confusion. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

He nodded.

"I'm going with you?"

He nodded.

"Oh, I was invited through you?"

He nodded.

"You never did ask me."

He made an obvious face.

"Well, you didn't. For all I know, you have another date."

He rolled his eyes, but she simply stared at him. He knew what she was doing. She was going to make him talk.

"I really need to talk to Simon about that," Victoire added. "What if, for some reason, you did have another date? Hypothetically, of course. Then what? I was never invited to his wedding."

Ted sighed.

"I would have liked to have been invited myself," she continued. "Or at least asked if—"

"Victoire Weasley," he interrupted, turning to face her head on. "Will you go with me to Simon's wedding?"

She hummed a little, pretending to consider the offer. "Well…"

"Don't even…"

She laughed. "In that case, I would love to. And look, you're talking again."

He shrugged, returning to his silent efforts.

"Oh, no," she said, poking him in the stomach. "I'm not losing you to silence and grumpiness again. I'm damned and determined to keep your spirits up." She glanced around the crowded room and lowered her voice. "Too bad the most effective way to do that can't be worked out at the moment."

He stared at her with an expression that begged the question, "_And what does that mean?"_

She smiled slowly and lowered her voice. "You know, steal a few moments off somewhere together. See what happens." She looked around the room once again. "That would probably get you fired, though…"

He couldn't help but smile at the thought of that that. He'd certainly rather be fired for _that_ rather than cutting a trip to Russia short.

"And, while we're on the subject," Victoire said, her voice still low as she took a step closer to him, "About what I said the other day. You remember? On Christmas? Up in my room?"

His eyes shot to hers. Did he remember? He'd probably played that conversation up in her room over and over in his head eight thousand times since they'd had it; every time wondering if what he'd assumed—and hoped—she had been hinting at concerned sex. It was something he hadn't had the chance to ask her about it further or discover for sure since they could barely get five minutes alone together. Either way, he definitely remembered.

Dominique called Victoire's name from where she was standing yards away, though she chose to ignore her. She was still staring at him and waiting for an answer. Ted couldn't help but search her face for any telltale signs of — well, he didn't even know what he was looking for, but some sign to let him know that she had been talking about sex like he'd assumed she was.

"So, you are talking about—?"

"Yes," she said obviously. "And how did I know _that _would get you talking again." She grinned before glancing around him to see where her mother and sister were waving her over to leave. She held up a finger to motion for one more minute. "I have to go, but I had a thought."

"Is this thought like your last thought? Because I could honestly get used to these sorts of thoughts."

"I'm sure you could," she laughed. "But what I was thinking was that I'm fairly sure we'll be able to carve out some time on my birthday to be alone. Really alone, I mean. Not five minutes alone. Perhaps then…" She started to blush at little. "Well, it'd definitely be something I've never gotten before."

"Wow…" Ted said, laughing more out of disbelief than anything being funny. "That's some pressure."

"I just thought maybe that would be something to think about," she said, stepping around him and towards where her mother and sister were standing. "It could be special that way, or— er, whatever you want to call it." She waved her hand awkwardly, looking as if she felt silly for having said what she'd had. "Anyway, um, keep it in mind."

"Um, that won't be problem," he said matter-of-factly. "In fact, it'll probably be the only thing on my mind until Friday."

Victoire smirked. "You mean Saturday."

"Saturday, what?

"Weren't you talking about my birthday?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"Right," she said, throwing him a strange smile. "It's on Saturday."

Ted stared at her. No, it wasn't. He'd literally just checked, so he knew for a fact that it wasn't. She was obviously confused. "I'm pretty sure the 30th is on Friday."

"And I'm pretty sure you're wrong," Victoire said, laughing a little. "I know when my birthday—"

"Victoire Weasley!" shouted Fleur, her tone noticeably more aggravated. "I am sure it iz very nice to see Teddy, but we must go! We 'ave errands."

"Coming!" Victoire said before rounded back on Ted. "I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you, too," he said, forcing a smile as she hurried off to catch up with her mother and sister. He watched her go; even after she'd disappeared out the front, he continued to stare at the spot where she'd disappeared.

After what seemed like a particularly long a minute, he grabbed at the folder he'd left sitting counter and made his way back to the lifts. He took one up to the second floor, but walked quickly down the corridor and back towards the lab. When he entered, he saw the lab was empty with the exception of Magda, who had clearly arrived early for her shift. He ignored her hello greeting and instead walked straight to his desk. Even though he knew he was right about Victoire's birthday being on Friday—even though he'd just checked—he still felt compelled to look once again. Just to be sure.

He pulled out his calendar from his desk drawer and flipped it open to the month of December. His eyes immediately rested on the 30th, and he used his finger to trace the line up to the day of the week. Friday. It was on Friday. Of course, it was on Friday. He'd just looked.

"I knew it," he said out loud, not addressing anyone in particular. "Where did she get Saturday from?"

"Are you talking to me?" asked Magda, who peered over from her desk towards him.

Ted shook his head. "No, I was talking to myself." He sighed and threw his calendar down on the table. "I thought I had maybe made a huge mistake, but," he smiled, "I didn't."

"What'd you think you did?" Magda asked.

"I thought I had planned my best mate's stag party for the night of my girlfriend's birthday without knowing I did it."

"But you didn't?"

He sighed happily. "No. Her birthday is on Friday and the party is on Saturday."

Magda hummed. "Well, at least you avoided that mess."

"Tell me about it. That would have been a train wreck."

"You know, I was almost a New Year's baby, too," Magda added, nodding towards him. "Like your girlfriend. I was born on the second of January though, so I missed it by a day. Your girlfriend missed it by…what?" She stopped and looked like she was doing math in her head "Friday would make it three days, right?"

"Two," Ted corrected. "She's on the 30th."

Magda turned all the way around in her chair to face him. "You said her birthday was on Friday. Friday's the 29th." She turned and pointed to a unicorn calendar that hung next to her desk. "Yes, see. Right here." She turned back to him. "Where did you get the 30th being on Friday from?"

"Because it says," Ted said, grabbing immediately at his calendar. He took it straight over to Magda, flipping it open to December and pointing towards the 30th. "I don't know where everyone keeps getting that it's on Saturday."

Magda took the calendar and inspected what was on the page. Her eyebrows furrowed questioningly as she saw exactly what Ted was telling her. She looked back at her own unicorn calendar to compare, going back and forth between the two for several seconds before something seemed to dawn upon her. She closed Ted's calendar and handed it back to him.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you've gone and planned your party on the night of your girlfriend's birthday."

He gawked at her. "So the calendar's wrong? How is the calendar wro—?"

She didn't wait for him to finish speaking before she closed his calendar and pointed to the cover. "It's wrong if you're using it for this year. We're currently in 2017, not 2016. You're supposed to update these things every year, Ted."

Ted's eyes immediately focused on what she was pointing to. In little black letters, scrolled right across the top of the cover, the number "2016" stared right up at him, clear as day. He pulled the cover closer to his face, almost as if inspecting it closer would somehow change it. When it didn't, the realization hit him like a Bludger to the head. He had the wrong year.

How in the hell did he have the wrong year? Granted, he wasn't much of a calendar person usually, so when he'd found this one in his desk while trying to work out his Russian trip, he'd just assumed...

Oh, this was not good. This was really not good. The stag party on Victoire's birthday. Victoire's birthday was on the day of the stag party. _He _had obliviously, not to mention stupidly, planned Simon's stag part for Victoire's birthday, all because he'd had a bloody piece of shit calendar!

He closed his eyes. "Today _is _Thursday, isn't it?"

"Yes."

This day had just gone from bad to absolutely horrible.

"Well, for your sake," Magda added. "I really hope you bought your girlfriend a nice present."


	31. Fitting Honesty

Running ten minutes late for a meeting with Simon meant that Ted was most likely early, or so he always assumed. It had taken him years and years of being left waiting for upwards of half hours at a time, but after knowing someone for the last eight years like he knew Simon, he had become accustomed to Simon's nuisances when it came to tardiness. Altering his schedule to accommodate Simon's just made sense, especially since Simon had no intentions of working out how to become more prompt. Someone had to concede, and in this case, that someone was Ted. At the moment, however, as Ted turned the corner towards Twilfit & Tatting's for his robe fitting, he was entirely too preoccupied to really care whether or not he was on time for anything.

How in the hell was he so damn stupid to have planned Simon's party on Victoire's birthday? How had he let that happen without somehow realizing what he was getting himself into? Who does that? And most importantly, what was he going to do? How was he going to sort this out—?

He stopped in his tracks when he realized he had walked right past the entrance to Twilfit & Tatting's and now had to double back. He trekked back up the walkway, where a sharp looking shop with a polished oak door stood presenting a dapper looking window display. The message, _"Is your winter cloak too drafty? Twilfit & Tattling's can cater to all your winter needs_!" had been charmed to scroll across the front window; behind it, several smart looking—and probably expensive—cloaks stood draped across three magicked mannequins that were taking turns posing for onlookers.

Without wasting any more time, Ted pulled open the shop door, where small bell tinkled to announce his entrance. Inside, the stuffy shop was relatively empty with the exception of a posh looking elderly man who stood crouched on the floor in front of a small podium in an adjoining room. He seemed to be fiddling with the bottom of a robe hem for someone that was just obscured from Ted's sight. It took the man several moments to notice Ted's presence, but when he did, he stood from his crouched position.

"Be right with you, sir," he said before he tucked his wand behind his ear.

"Not a problem," Ted said, heaving a heavy breath as he collapsed into a rickety looking chair by the door. He was in no mood to be helped anyway, though he barely had time to process that thought when the sight of a blonde head and a familiar face poked around the corner of the adjoining room.

"There you are," said Simon from atop the small podium that the posh wizard was working around. He grinned at him, right as Ted observed the new navy blue robes he was being fitted for. Apparently, they had just started their fitting because Simon was practically swimming in the fabric.

Ted mustered a lazy grin.

"This is the one we're waiting for," Simon said to the man, who was now busy tapping his wand to Simon's right sleeve.

"The best man?" he asked.

"Well, that depends on who you're asking," Simon joked, throwing Ted cheeky smile.

Ted forced a smile back, but his eyes barely made eye contact with Simon's before they had shot distractedly back down to the floor. He had too much on his mind to banter.

"So, usually I'm the late one," Simon went on, filling the stuffy silence in the small shop, "but here you are crawling in ten minutes late."

Ted shrugged. "I was compensating for the fact that you're usually late."

"I figured as much," Simon said, a yawn escaping him as the man moved on to his left arm. "So, what's going on, mate? You just get off work?"

Ted nodded, though his expression remained empty.

"Shitty day?"

"That doesn't really sum up the half of it."

"Someone get sick all over you again?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, I wish."

Simon cocked his eyebrow.

"Compared to the day I had thrown at me," Ted said. "I would have much rather had someone been sick all over me."

The posh wizard with the needles looked a little disgusted by that comment, but still gestured for Simon to turn around on the spot. He did as he was told, and with his back now facing Ted, he asked, "Dare I ask?"

"Long story short," Ted began, his tone heavy. "I got in a fight with this girl I work with, who knows I cut Russia short to come home early. She's threatening to tell my boss."

Simon made a sharp inhaling sound.

"But that's not even the worst of it. No, the worst would be that I'm a complete and utter fucking idiot—"

The wizard stopped what he was doing to look at Ted.

"—who went and did the most ridiculously stupid thing I could do."

"That could be so many things," Simon said with a laugh.

"Yeah," Ted mumbled, not elaborating immediately and instead watched as Simon's robe was taken in. With a few quick flicks of his wand, the man had seamlessly removed half the excess material from Simon's robe and then fitted the rest of the material to his body. It was starting to look more and more like proper wedding attire with each flick of his wrist.

Ted watched in silence, though the longer he did, the more he realized that he was going to have make a choice in order rectify the grievous error he'd committed with his poor, poor, poor planning. He had two options facing him; one way or another he was going to probably upset someone. The question was, was that person going to be Victoire or was that person going to be Simon? It was simply a matter of which one would be more forgiving. Which one would get over this the quickest?

Of course, the obvious answer seemed to be Simon. After all, passing on a night of drinking and debauchery with his mates in order to be with his girlfriend on her birthday seemed like the common sense thing to do; it seemed like the right thing to do. But then again, when that night happened to be your best friend's stag party, and you, as the best man, should be in attendance, the tables were turned slightly. Victoire would have loads of birthdays, but Simon would only have one stag party. It was an event he'd been looking forward to since he was old enough to know what one was. They'd talked about it when they were younger, and Ted knew how keyed up he was about. The obvious depravity and wild fun of the night aside, the party was a milestone to Simon. Not being there for him, especially as his best man, would be downright insulting.

Still, in Ted's gut, all signs pointed to Simon. Simon would still have his other friends there. His night wouldn't be entirely ruined if one person was missing; even if that person was his best man. He would understand…

"Hey, Simon," Ted said, deciding he may as well feel him out. "If I couldn't come on Saturday, would that be an issue?"

Simon's head awkwardly lurched over his shoulder to look at Ted where he sat. "What? You can't come out?"

"I didn't say that," he said slowly. "I was just wondering if it would be a big deal."

"Of course it would be a big deal," he said. "You're the best fucking man. You're my best friend. You planned the damn thing. You have to be there."

Ted inhaled slowly. "I have to be there," he repeated.

"Why? Are they trying to get you to work on Saturday night? Because you can tell them to bugger off if they are. You're not curing dragon pox or werewolfism overnight, Lupin. Tell them you've got plans."

"I've got too many plans," he mumbled. "That's the problem…" He started to drum his finger on the arm of his chair before he exhaled loudly and obviously. When all else fails, it was time to be honest. "I really screwed up."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I went and planned your stag party on Victoire's birthday."

Simon's head lurched over his shoulder again, but this time much quicker than before. So quickly in fact, the man tending to his robe grabbed his shoulder to straighten him back out again. "You did not."

"I did."

The stuffy silence that had consumed the room earlier filled it once again. Only the nasally breathing noise of the man tending to Simon was even decipherable against the quiet. It wasn't until, after what seemed like hours, that Simon muttered, "You're a fucking moron. And I say that as your friend."

"I know."

"No, I really don't think you do."

"You don't think I've been kicking myself over this since I found out?" Ted asked, rubbing his eyes.

"And how exactly did you just find out?" Simon asked. "Isn't this something you should just know? You've only know Victoire since she was born. Hell, you were probably there on her first birthday."

"I can't even explain it because it just sounds like an excuse," Ted said distantly. "For whatever reason, I wasn't putting the pieces together. I know when Victoire's birthday is—"

"You sure about that?"

He ignored him. "But I kept looking at this out-of-date calendar and thinking it was the day before your party, not the day of. I somehow got it fixed in my head that your party was clearly on Saturday, but yet, every time I looked at that calendar, it kept telling me Victoire's birthday was on Friday. I didn't make the connection that it was the same day until maybe an hour ago."

"That's generally why people recommend using a calendar of the year it currently is, you dolt."

"I get it," Ted said, letting his head thump dully against the wall behind his head. "I already fully admitted that I'm an idiot."

"Why can't you just spend the day with her and then go out with us that night? I know it's not ideal, but it's a compromise."

"I have to work all day," he muttered. "I took off the entire day of your wedding, so they weren't about to give me the day before off, too. I'll be at the hospital from nine in the morning until nine at night, give or take an hour. I was already going to be late for your party as it was."

Simon shook his head as the last bit of excess material fell from the fabric he was wearing. "You know, I was giving you the benefit of the doubt earlier. But you really are an idiot."

"Thanks…"

"And just a few more touches here," said the man, who waved his wand around so wildly that it looked as if he was conducting an orchestra full of people; instead of music, loose threads and swatches of material began gathering and cutting themselves from Simon's robe. "There we have it. All done, sir."

Simon stood up straighter and glimpsed himself in the mirror to see the finished product. Ted could just catch his reflection from where he was sitting, and couldn't help but think Simon looked quite mature standing there in his formal robes. He looked like an adult, which Ted had to suppose he was already. This just made it all look all the more official.

"Your turn, sir," said the man, gesturing to Ted in his chair before turning back to Simon. "You can take that off and set it over there."

Ted stood from his chair and walked into the small adjoining room, which was even smaller upon entering. He waited as the man cast one quick charm to discard all the fabric remnants from Simon's robe, and then another quick charm to summon another roll of identical looking fabric back into the room. He then pointed to the podium where Simon had been standing, silently informing Ted that he was supposed to stand there.

Ted did as he was instructed, just as Simon reappeared in the room with his robe slung over his shoulder. No one spoke as the man held up the fabric before he placed it over Ted's head, letting it drape down to his feet. It was then that Ted suddenly felt like someone had thrown a very large blanket over top of him, leaving only enough room for his head to poke out the top.

"You're a bit taller than your friend," said the man as he took a step back to examine him.

"He's always doing that," Simon joked from the corner of the room. "Always going around being taller than me. Couldn't even cut me a break on my wedding day, could you?"

Ted grinned as the man immediately bent down to first tend to the hem at the bottom of the robe, measuring the space between the floor and where the hem should rest.

"So," said Simon, "what are you going to do?"

Ted looked up from watching the tailoring, unsure as to whether or not he was even talking to him or the man on the floor. When he saw that Simon's eyes were focused on him, he mumbled, "I don't know."

"Well, by the looks of things," Simon said, his tone surprisingly monotonous, "you want me to say it's okay that you don't come."

"I never said—"

"No, I get it," Simon said, crossing his arms lazily across his chest. "I wouldn't want to set Victoire off either. She's got a wicked little temper if I remember correctly." He sighed. "And let me guess. You came to talk to me before you talked to her?"

"I told you I just found out about an hour ago," said Ted defensively. "I was coming here anyway, so you just ended up being the first one."

Simon stretched his arms over his head before returning them to the spot where they had been laying across his chest. "You would have come to me first, regardless. You wanted to test the waters with me before risking the argument with Victoire." He clicked his tongue. "I can't blame you, I suppose. Though, it's not—and don't take this the wrong way—but, it's not really surprising."

"How's that?" Ted asked.

Simon took a deep breath. "You've always been like this."

"Been like what?"

"You want me to be honest?"

"Since when have you ever not been?"

He shrugged. "Since what I have to say isn't exactly pretty."

Ted stared at him. Here was the bluntest person he knew—someone, who since the age of eleven, spoke first and asked questions later—actually proceeding what he was about to say with a warning. This couldn't be good.

"You've always had this, 'girlfriend first, friends whenever I have some extra time' mentality once you go and get yourself involved with a girl," Simon said delicately, as if he was choosing every word precisely so not come off too harsh. "After time passes, it all wears down and you sort of balance out, but early on in relationships…" He made face. "Let's just say it's not surprising that Victoire would win this little struggle without so much as her even being aware it's occurring."

Ted stood frozen to the spot, letting what Simon had said resonate with him. There was a strange, almost tingling feeling now running through his body, as if he'd just been sucker punched in the side of face. "That's not…"

"No?" Simon asked, looking as if he already expected Ted to challenge his claims. "Why'd you and Victoire have that huge argument back in school? Why'd you stop being friends back then?"

Ted tried to stop his mind from thinking back to those days, knowing he already didn't want to be reminded of the answer. They had fought because things had become strained between them. They had fought because she had gotten snotty with him over the way he acted around Celia; for always putting Celia first and seemingly forgetting about her as his friend.

"For the record," Simon added, "it's never really bothered me. It bothered Victoire when Celia was in the picture, but girls can be weird about that sort of thing. I just figured you'd get over it, and you did. Like I said, after a few months you balanced out and learned how to prioritize your time, but for those first couple of months…"

Ted didn't even know what to say to that. He could vaguely remember being that guy, but he hadn't realized that he was resorting back to that same old habit still. "Am I really that bad?"

"No, of course not," Simon explained, "you're just annoying sometimes. I mean, I always thought Victoire had overreacted back in school when she claimed you were a different person because of Celia, but that's not to say that I didn't find her claims to be unfounded. Hell, you might want to ask her. She'll probably give you and better explanation as to what it felt like than I can."

"But this is different," Ted said. "This isn't me not wanting to study with Victoire in the library because Celia wants to study in the common room. This is me having to choose between ditching you on your stag night or ditching her on her birthday."

"True," Simon said, readily agreeing. "But, it all goes back to the same roots if you think about it. Instead of talking to me _and_ Victoire, you just walked in here and asked me straight off whether or not I would care if you didn't come out on Saturday. Had I said I didn't, you probably would have just gone off to Victoire without another worry about it. You wouldn't have even brought it up with her. You'd have spared her from ever having to know you were even considering not being there for her by getting me out of the way first."

Ted's head started to hurt.

"Look, I'm not trying to guilt trip you or anything," Simon continued. "It's not like you're trying to blow me off for the sake of blowing me off. It's her birthday, which is a big for her. I get that. I also get that you two don't have a lot of time to see each other because of school." He stopped and sighed. "That being said, I'm going to be honest for a second."

"For a second?" Ted asked, as the man attending to his robe moved up to his sleeve. "What was that before if I'm just now getting honest?"

"This is more the good kind of honest rather than the bad," Simon said, a small laugh escaping him before he regained a seriousness about his demeanor. "You're my best mate and have been for awhile now. I made you my best man for that very reason because, even after all the madness we put each other through, it's always worked itself out in the end. We're standing here right now. Now, this is probably going to be the sappiest thing you'll ever have to hear me say, and I apologize in advance for sounding like a pussy, but," he paused and took a breath, "it'd mean a lot to me if you came tomorrow. It really would. Not enough for me to condone you going and risking a fight with Victoire, mind you…"

Ted continued to stare at him. What was he supposed to say to that? Simon was supposed to have been the easy one; the one who wouldn't have cared. Instead, not only did he care, but he had made him realize that he was really pulling a dick move if he did pick Victoire over him here. However unintentional Ted's intentions were, Simon had been putting up with being pushed to the side when a girl came into the picture twice now, and he'd never so much as tried to complain or bitch. In fact, Ted couldn't think of one example of Simon calling him out on what was clearly a shitty part of Ted's end in this friendship. Simon had always just rolled with the punches, even when—and Ted hated to admit this—Victoire hadn't. Simon had put up with him through countless loads of bullshit, and rarely, if ever, asked for much in return…except for Ted to be there for him through this wedding process—stag party and all.

"Seriously, mate," Simon added. "Don't risk a fight with her over this. It's not worth it."

And there he went again. Even after fully admitting he wanted him to be there, all Simon seemed to care about was avoiding a row with Victoire. He was giving Ted the out without a fight.

The man working on Ted's robe tapped him to turn around on the podium so that he could take in the back. As he turned on the spot, Ted glanced over at Simon. "You want me to come tomorrow?"

Simon shrugged. "Yeah. I wouldn't have made you my best man if I didn't."

Ted looked away, nodding affirmatively as he now had his decision. "Then it's done. I'll talk to Victoire."

"Wait? What?"

"This means a lot to you, and I owe it to you," Ted said, glancing down at the floor.

"Shit," Simon muttered, sounding surprised. "I can't say I saw that coming."

"And that's exactly why I need to do this. Victoire will just have to understand." He furrowed his brow. "Maybe there's a chance she'll take it well?"

"Yeah…" Simon said slowly. "I don't want to give you false hope, but…she probably won't."

"No," he agreed, "you're absolutely right. She probably won't. Actually, she especially won't since she had mentioned that tomorrow she was hoping we could maybe—" He checked to see where the tailor was before looking back at Simon. "You know…"

"Could what?"

Ted made an obvious face. "Me and her…" He made another obvious face. "It would have been the first time we'd—"

"Ohhhh…" Simon said, his expression changing instantly as he realized what he was talking about. "And wait, you picked the stag night?" He laughed. "You really are a fucking idiot."

"Don't make me change my mind," Ted muttered, just as the robe man stood back and began waving his wand as wildly as he had before with Simon.

"Look, I'm going to say this one last time," Simon said, throwing his hands up as if he'd spoken his final piece on the matter. "Do what you have to do. Whether that be coming out with me tomorrow or…Victoire. Just do what you have to do."

"I am doing what I have to do."

"Yeah, well, that could change really fast when you've got those pretty little blue eyes staring up at you telling you she wants to have sex with you. Even I wouldn't be able to fault you for that."

Ted closed his eyes. "Please stop reminding me."

"I won't," Simon said, grinning a little. "I think the permanent lack of sex you're setting yourself up for will be plenty a reminder. You like cold showers, right?"

Ted snorted a laugh.

"All finished," said man pointedly, and looking all too thankful for it given that he didn't seem to be very amused by the conversation taking place around him. "What do you think?"

Ted looked himself up and down in the mirror, turning side to side to check all angles. It looked good. It looked _really_ good. It was probably the best fitting robe he'd ever put on. In fact, it wasn't until he saw himself wearing this that he suddenly realized every other robe he owned didn't even fit him.

"Nice," Simon said, giving Ted a quick once over. "You guys do good work here."

"It's what we're known for, sir," said the man, gesturing to Ted to remove his robe so that he could collect it. "Would you like them wrapped?"

"Why?" Simon asked. "Do people usually do that?"

The man gave an impatient sigh. "It's usually up to the decision the buyer. It's a complimentary service."

"Oh," he said, glancing at Ted. "Sure, then? Why not?"

Ted shrugged to say that he didn't care one way or the other as he pulled his robe off his head.

"Excellent," the man said, forcing a wry smiled as he collected both Simon and Ted's robes. "I'll just press these and be right back."

"Sound good," Simon said, watching as the man disappeared back into the other room. He waited until he was completely out of sight before rounding back on Ted. "I don't think he likes us much."

"This is a really posh place," Ted said, checking to see if the man within earshot. "And here we are talking about stag nights and how I'm not getting laid...ever."

Simon scoffed. "Well, given that guy's chipper tone, it sounds like you're not the only one."

"Yeah, but he's got to be about a hundred."

"My grandmother was still going at it well into her hundreds."

Ted made a disgusted face. "I don't want to know how you know that."

"She would brag about it," Simon said, matching Ted's disgust. "Have you not figured out yet that I come for a very strange family, yet? And you know what? I'd bet your grandmother found time to—"

"Do not finish that sentence," Ted said, just as the tailor returned with two newly wrapped packages in his hand. He forced another wry smiled directed at the both of them before he handed them back their robes.

"Why, thank you!" said Simon in an over-the-top and irregularly pleasant sort of way. Ted knew that tone all too well. Now that Simon thought the guy didn't like him, he was going to play with him. "You've been too helpful."

"My pleasure," said the man dryly. "I do hope your wedding ends up being satisfactory."

Simon smiled widely, still not knowing when to quit. "Oh, I'm sure it will."

The man turned to Ted, his beady little eyes almost feeling as if they were looking through him. "And I do hope things work out with your lady friend."

"Me too," said Simon with a nod. "She very cute and I don't think he can do much better."

"Okay, you've had enough," Ted said, nudging Simon towards the exit before nodding politely at the man. "Thank you."

The man hummed, though his eyebrow had arched almost into his hairline before Ted managed to half push Simon out of the store.

"I was just taking the piss," Simon said once they were outside. "The guy could use a laugh."

"I don't think you're his type of humor."

"Oh, you mean the funny kind?"

"One day you'll realize that you're an acquired taste, Simon," Ted said as he turned his package over in his hand and examined it. "You know, I actually really like my new robe."

"Fits like a glove," Simon said, gesturing to it. "You looked good. I don't even think Victoire would recognize you."

"Yeah, "Ted mumbled. "Well, given how she reacts to me telling her about missing her birthday that may be a good thing."

* * *

**A/N: I don't say this too often about my own writing, but I really liked how this chapter turned out. Something about Ted and Simon's conversation made me sit back after I wrote it and think, "I really like how that worked..." I surprised myself I guess. I don't know. Just thought I'd share a little of my thought process. :)**

**Anyway, thanks so much for all the reviews! :)  
**


	32. Knocks at the Door

On the afternoon before her birthday, Victoire sat in her kitchen attempting to play catch up with the stockpile of N.E.W.T. work she had left untouched since arriving home for the holidays. She had only just managed to finish a detailed ingredient write-up for Potions, and now sat dully fumbling through her Ancient Runes book in order to translate at least some of the 250 rune inscriptions she'd been assigned.

As she flipped page after page, she stopped suddenly on one in particular that described a recent new runes discovery in Australia—runes that were linked to native Aborigines of the Outback—and tapped her quill against the wood tabletop as she inspected the page. It was a small story—an article really—tucked away within the pages and pages of translations guides. The article was supposed to allow readers of the textbook to see Runes work first hand; to show that the information they were learning wasn't simply rubbish thrust upon them by their professors to keep them busy, but rather, it had an actual purpose after all.

She read the article twice, learning that a recently started excavation of a group of caves where the runes had been found could take up to ten years to fully complete. Victoire stopped to stare at the featured photo in the article, where several wizards and witches all staggered around in the foreground of an arid, desert plain. In the photo, they were gesturing towards a cave in the distance, but in the photograph directly below that one, the same specialists were now exhibiting some of the new found runes from inside the cave. Everyone in the photo looked so excited and optimistic about what they were dealing with. One man in particular was jumping up and down gleefully, pointing at the cave walls. They all sure did seem to enjoy what they did.

Victoire smiled as she continued to watch the figures in the photo. For a moment, she pictured what her life would be like if she decided to take Runes seriously and travel the world. She'd probably find herself in strange caves and climbing through ancient, abandoned ruins. She may uncover mysteries that were still plaguing the magical world today, and possibly even some Muggle mysteries. After all, as she had learned from Professor Tate just last year, a former Hogwarts's student had been employed by the British Museum after they'd discovered a strange and "foreign" language carved into a stone basin in the Turkey region. None of the Muggles on the scene could make heads or tails of the strange symbols, but of course, that was because they were all written in an age old form of wizard runes. The wizard who had translated it had been all over the Muggle news and papers for his "special" skills. He'd received quite a bit of recognition.

Still, living in strange countries; standing in the heat or cold for hours, or days, on end; staring at relics and rocks while trying to discover what people were trying to communicate centuries ago—it wasn't exactly Victoire's idea of a good time…

Was it?

She stared back down at her textbook. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of the men and women who were pointing eagerly at the cave walls, smiling ear to ear at their discovery. Strangely enough, she couldn't help but smile either. Their expressions reminded her of photos she'd seen of her father when he had been younger and living in Egypt as a treasure hunter for Gringotts. He had always had a similar look of enthusiasm on his face, as if the rush of discovering something was the greatest high one could have. It was an emotion that was oddly compelling to her the more and more she watched the photograph—

"Doing homework?" asked Louis, whose voice and sudden entrance into the kitchen had startled Victoire out of her thoughts.

"Um, yeah," Victoire said, tearing her eyes away from her book to look him. "Yeah, I was trying to get everything done before tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

She frowned.

"I'm kidding. I know it's your birthday," he said as he opened a nearby cupboard and began pulling item after item out to set them on the countertop. "Speaking of which, what are your plans?"

Victoire shrugged. She hadn't really had a plan. Last year she had had an extravagant plan—what with throwing a party and inviting almost everyone she knew—but that had been because she was turning seventeen; the coming of age number. Parties and events were expected when someone turned seventeen. Turning eighteen wasn't nearly as significant. It was just another number.

"You don't have any plans?" he asked.

"Not really," she said. "Mum said she's make chocolate soufflé since she knows it's my favorite—"

"Excellent," said Louis, still pulling item after item out of the cupboard. "I could go for some of that."

"—and she also said she would make me whatever I wanted for dinner."

"Ask for steak."

She twisted her face into disgust. "You know I don't like steak. And anyway, I don't even know what my plans are for dinner. I had hoped that Ted and I would do something, just the two of us, but he hasn't mentioned anything."

"Maybe he's planning on surprising you," Louis suggested. "He's been up to that quite a bit lately."

"Maybe," Victorie said, sounding doubtful, but secretly wondering if that was case. Ted had been full of surprises lately, so it really _shouldn't _come as a surprise if he was planning one. Her birthday would present a perfect occasion to drop another one.

She let her mind wander as to what he possibly could be up to. She would have expected him to say something, perhaps give her a hint since he always seemed so keen on dropping small—albeit, ambiguous—hints. But maybe that was all part of his plan? He had proven that he was unbelievably good at keeping secrets, so perhaps he was just keeping even the smallest details to himself. That could be why he hadn't said anything to her. Yeah, maybe that was it…

Then again, perhaps he was playing off the fact that she had told him she was interested in taking things to the next level tomorrow and, in turn, was now trying to make things even more special. That could make sense. She smiled as she thought of the look on his face after she had told him she'd been thinking about sex. She had to admit that that look had only made her more excited for the opportunity, though it still didn't cancel out the anxious nerves she accumulated in her stomach every time she thought about it.

She just wanted things to be perfect when it happened, even though—as Whit had said—she knew she shouldn't be over thinking things too much. After all, this wasn't a N.E.W.T exam. Even if the two _did_ happen to share some similarities—like, for instance, she'd been anticipating both for the last few years now, she'd studied and taken proper measures to make sure she knew what she was doing when both opportunities presented themselves, and she'd had far too many dreams about both…

She blinked. Wait, what she sitting here comparing sex to N.E.W.T.s? Who does that? What was wrong with her?

"I can tell you now that my birthday can't come fast enough," Louis said as he pulled out a bag of crisps from the cupboard and inspected them. Seemingly satisfied with his choice, he started putting everything he'd removed from the cupboard back inside of it. "I'm so tired of the Floo Network. I just want to Apparate already."

"You've only got three more months," said Victoire.

"That still seems like ages," he mumbled, joining her at the table and reaching to pull out the chair opposite from her. He sat down and opened his crisps' bag. "I really wanted to have a party like you did, but seeing as I'll be up at school, I don't think it'll happen."

"Easter holidays are right after your birthday," she said. "I'm sure Mum and Dad wouldn't care if you wanted to throw a belated party. They'd just—" she hesitated for a moment, thinking of Louis and Dominique sharing the exact same birthday, "make you throw a joint party with…"

Louis rolled his eyes, which, in turn, made Victoire do the same. There had been very little progress on the situation between Louis and Dominique, but that wasn't to say there hadn't been some change in the situation. While neither was actively seeking each other out as company, they were making the attempt to pretend to be civil—at least, Louis was. Victoire wasn't sure if he had come to his senses on his own, or rather a long talk to with Sarah—which she'd witnessed them having the day before outside on porch—had been the real reason he had relented on his stubborn attempts at freezing Dominique out. Either way, he was making an effort; a weak effort, mind you, but an effort. It was a step in the right direction.

However, it came as no surprise that Dominique was still hanging on strong to her resentment of the situation and everyone involved in it. Louis hadn't actually apologized, so—to her—his attempts at rectifying the situation by acting as if time would simply smooth thing over were null and void. Victoire had a feeling that Louis would actually have to say the words, "I'm sorry," before any real progress could be made on Dominique's end. Whether that was going to happen anytime soon was hard to say.

"You and Nic will have made up by your birthday," Victoire said.

He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"I wish you two would just talk out your issues like adults," Victoire muttered, picking up her quill and resorting to doodling on the side of her Runes work.

He shrugged again before popping a handful of crisps in his mouth.

"What has Sarah said about everything?"

"Same thing you've been saying. She seems to think that Nicki and I need to straighten things out before she can make any headway in talking to her. Apparently, she wrote her a long letter the other day and Nicki sent it back without opening. The words "too late" scribbled on the outside."

Victoire inhaled slowed. That was a harsh. "Well, Sarah's probably right. You two do need to straighten things out first."

He chewed slowly. "I just wish Nicki wasn't so damn stubborn."

She looked up at him from her doodle. "Pot meet kettle."

"I'm not _that_ stubborn."

"Not usually," she said, returning to her drawing of caves and runes symbols, "but something's gotten into you this time. You don't seem to be capable of just going and apologizing."

"She's the one who seems to think I've got some agenda," he said, his tone suddenly louder. "You heard what she said. She thinks I'm just working my through all the girls she knows as if it's some game. She doesn't seem to realize that we know all the same people. Odds are I'm going to date someone she knows."

"Yes, but odds were also less that one of those people would turn out to be her best friend," Victoire said frankly. "That's the part you're not seeing, Lou. She's hurt that she was lied to. Both her brother and her best friend kept this huge secret from her, and you and I both know Nicki is far more sensitive than she lets on. She's probably more sensitive than either of us. She puts up the hard exterior, but when she's really hurt, she just shuts down. That's what she's doing, she's shutting down."

He sighed.

"Honestly, look at that letter she sent back to Sarah. That's classic Nicki behavior. Sarah made her feel terrible, now Dominique is going to do everything in her power to make Sarah feel just as bad. She'd do the same to you probably, only you have the protection of Mum and Dad telling her to knock it off."

He sighed again.

"I'm telling you, Louis. You're not going to win this. If you just apologize—"

There was a knock at the front door. Both Victoire and Louis glanced towards the entrance hall before looking back at each other.

"Will someone get that?" called their father from the living room. "I'm trying to get some work done."

Victoire stood, tossing her quill to the table as she did so. "If you just say you're sorry, things will go back to normal. You know that's all it takes."

He groaned. "Do you know how much easier said than done that is?"

"Suck up your pride, Lou," she said before turning the corner towards the entrance hall. Without checking to see who was out there, she reached for the knob and pulled the door open. For the first time in her life, she could actually physically feel herself pull a double take when she saw who was standing there.

"Hi, Victoire," said a scruffy looking Henry Davies, looking as if he hadn't even attempted to shave since school had let out of the holidays. He was also sweating, or rather, he looked as if he had been sweating, but now was cooling down. The air was so chilly that Victoire had to wonder how anyone could work up a sweat, but she wasn't about to ask what had happened.

"Henry," she said slowly, wondering why exactly he was here. "Hi. What are you…?"

He gestured to just outside of the door, where Victoire hadn't initially noticed a broom and a box of Quidditch supplies resting idly against the wall. So, he'd been doing something Quidditch-y. That at least explained the sweating.

"Is your sister around?"

"Oh," Victoire said, avoiding the sudden overwhelming urge to giggle. "Yeah, of course." She bit her lip. He was making house calls now?

She pushed open the door further and gestured for him to come in. When she shut the door behind him, she crossed the room towards the stairs and leaned up against the banister to shout, "Nicki!" before turning back around. She grinned at him. "She'll be just a second."

He nodded and casually looked around the room to take in his surroundings. "Nice house."

"Thanks, I built it myself."

He cocked his eyebrow.

"Bad joke," she added, just as Louis poked his head out of the kitchen to see what was going on.

He had taken one look at Henry—who was too busy inspecting a painting of France that hung just inside the entrance way to notice him—and immediately turned to meet Victoire's eyes. He mouthed, "Seriously?"

Victoire shrugged, trying not to laugh.

Henry turned back from the painting and immediately noticed Louis standing there. He made a nodding gesture with his head. "Weasley."

Louis returned the nod. "Davies. Funny seeing you here. What's, um, going on?"

"Not much," he said, still sounding as casual as could be. "Your sister mentioned she got a new broom for Christmas. I thought I'd come by and check it out."

"Right…" Louis said, nodding slowly. "New broom, right."

Victoire's body started to shake from restraining her bout of silent giggles. She didn't even know why she found the idea of Henry waiting for her sister so funny, but she could feel her eyes starting to water as she stood there. The fact that Louis kept shooting her looks to show that he was just as amused as she was wasn't helping matters.

"So, wait," Louis said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You two actually talk outside of school? Does that mean you finally put all those years of arguing behind you and are," he smiled at Victoire, which made her nearly lose it, "_friends_?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know. I wouldn't say we're friends exactly. She's just sent me a letter saying her new broom could out race mine, so I thought I'd see if she could back it up."

"No, yeah, of course," Louis agreed, "I probably wouldn't call you friends either. I'd probably call you _more than frie_—"

Victoire elbowed him in the ribs and took an over exaggerated breath. "Now where is she?' She leaned back up the stairs. "Nicki!!!"

"What iz wiz all ze yelling?" asked her mother as she appeared on the top landing of the stairs. "You know your fazer iz trying to get work done in ze living room. Do you really need to be so loud?"

"Sorry, Mum," Victoire said, glancing back at Henry. "Nicki just has a visitor, so…"

"Oh," she smiled politely at Henry, as if just noticing he was standing there, "'ello."

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley."

"Mum," Victoire said gesturing to him. "This is Henry Davies. He's in my year at school. He's a friend— er, rather, a something of Nicki's."

Louis snorted a laugh, though their mother seemed to have altogether ignored the stranger part of the introduction. At the mere mention of Henry's name, her attention had immediately focused more intently on him.

"Davies?" she asked

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling politely.

She smiled a little as her gaze became distant. She looked abruptly lost in thought.

"He's here to see Nicki," Victoire reminded her. "She can't seem to hear me yelling, so maybe you could knock on her door?"

"Oh, yes," her mother said, adding, "such a small world," before turning and knocking on Dominique's bedroom door. "Nicki, you 'ave a visitor."

The distinct sound of Dominique's creaky door opening was heard even from where they were all standing in the entrance hall below.

"I do?" she asked as she appeared at the top of the landing to peer down below. When she saw Henry, her face went through several different emotions; the most predominant being surprise, though embarrassment seemed to be trailing right behind.

"Look who's here!" Victoire said in a sing-song tone.

Dominique glared at her, which told Victoire she was probably going to have to pay for that later, but it was so worth it. The years of her tormenting and teasing her in front of all the boys she'd had some of sort relationship with were suddenly seeming a little more easy to bear when Dominique could finally know how it felt.

"Davies," Dominique said quickly, taking to the stairs as she spoke. "What are you…?" She glanced at Victoire and Louis, and her tone immediately grew more aggressive. "Why the hell are you here?"

Henry didn't flinch. "You said that if I wanted to see your new broom, this would be the best time to come over."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking as if the idea of him showing up was the world's greatest imposition. Victoire couldn't help but think that she was now having the pleasure of watching Dominique put on a very particular show for her and Louis's benefit. Heaven forbid she actually admits that she asked him over. No, that would possibly mar her hard fought reputation of only using Henry for a bit of quick fun in the corridors of school. She couldn't possibly admit that she actually might _enjoy_ his company. She'd probably rather be doused in bubotuber puss that admit to that.

"Fine, whatever," Dominique muttered, turning back up the stairs towards her room. "Just…go outside or something. I'll be out in a minute."

Davies shrugged, as though he didn't care one way or the other.

"Well…" Louis said awkwardly once Dominique had disappeared, looking from Victoire back to Henry. "That was…" He stopped speaking and merely shrugged. "So, Davies, while you're waiting for Nicki, can I get a look at your broom? Jack Ians said you did some work on yours that made it wicked fast and that it's something everyone has to see."

"Sure," Davies said, grinning at the compliment as he turned to grabbed the door. "It's just outside. I've actually put a lot of work into making it go faster, so—"

The sound of someone knocking on the door's other side made Henry stop and retract his hand from where he had just placed it on the doorknob. He looked back at Louis.

"Do you want me to get that?"

Louis gestured for him to go ahead, but stepped up along side of him to greet whoever happened to be standing there. When the door opened, Victoire could just make out Ted's confused face as his eyes landed on Henry.

"Vic, it's Ted," said Louis, looking back at her.

"I remember you," Henry said, looking Ted up and down as he passed him to step outside. "You're that bloke from school with the hair, aren't you?"

"Um, I could be," Ted said, still looking confused. "But a lot of blokes at school had hair, so you're going to have to be a little more specific."

"The Metamorphmagus guy."

"Yeah, that was probably me," he said, glancing back at Victoire. "But feel free to call me Ted. I tend to prefer it."

Victoire threw Ted a sympathetic smile. She knew he'd never been a fan of people calling him, "the guy with the hair," or immediately bringing up his Metamorphmagus abilities before he even knew what their name was.

"What is going on?!" asked her father, appearing suddenly out of the living room and looking none too happy at the congestion of people who were standing around while he was trying to get work done. "Why is everyone just standing here?" He looked at Henry. "Who are you?"

"This is Henry," Louis said as he grabbed at his cloak to follow Henry outside.

"He's Nicki's '_friend_,'" Victoire added, making air quotes with her fingers around the word friend.

"Oh, shut up, Vic," Dominique spat, having obviously heard her as she came down the stairs with her broom in her hand.

"Well, he is…" she added, watching as Dominique brushed past both her and Ted on her way to join the boys outside. Victoire could just make out Henry handing Louis his broom and explaining something to him when Dominique loudly slammed the front door behind her.

"Her 'friend,'" her father muttered, looking straight at Victoire for a further explanation. "Does 'friend' mean what I think it means?"

"Probably."

"Oh, bloody hell," he said, turning on the spot to reenter the living room. "Now her? I had my hands tied with you, and now _she's_ got boys coming 'round…" He trailed off as he disappeared back into the living room.

Victoire turned to Ted, who still seemed slightly confused as to what he had just walked into.

"Trust me, it's not worth explaining," she said.

He shrugged a little, but his face quickly turned pensive. There was something about him that seemed very distracted; even agitated. His usual playfulness was missing, but perhaps he was just tired. He had been working since six o'clock that morning.

"Rough day at work?" she asked.

"No more than usual," he said, shifting his weight on his feet.

"Oh, I just thought, maybe…" She shrugged, realizing she was probably just reading too much into things. "Never mind. So, what's up? I didn't expect too see you until later."

He took a deep breath and looked at the ground. "I just felt like coming to see you." He looked back up at her. "I had the extra time, so I thought, 'why not come and see my amazing girlfriend.'"

Victoire laughed. "Uh-oh. Why do I think you did something?"

His face went blank a little too quickly. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"Well," she said, poking him playfully. "You're laying it on pretty thick, there. Don't get me wrong, it's always nice to hear…" She smiled and shook her head. "But anyway, it doesn't matter." She shrugged and gestured to the kitchen. "What do you want to do? I was finishing my homework, but I can do that later."

Ted hesitated, glancing just over her shoulder and seemingly deep in thought. "Actually, um, there was something I needed to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" she asked, noticing his tone was slightly ominous. "Is something wrong?"

"Um, not really," he said, still not looking her in the eyes. "It's just…about tomorrow." He gestured to the living room before pointing towards the door. "Maybe we should go outside. I don't want to disturb your dad."

"Oh," she said, shrugging carelessly and nodding towards the door. "Okay. Let me just grab my cloak."

She watched as Ted opened the door and exited first, leaving it ajar for her to follow after. She dawdled for a moment, waiting for him to disappear onto the porch and out of her line sight, before grinning quickly. He wanted to talk about tomorrow. Perhaps he really did have a surprise in store and she was now going to find out what it was. She had only half believed this may have been the case, but now all signs were point to it happening. Not only that, but he wanted to talk about it somewhere away from where her dad could possibly hear them. That was quite telling. Maybe it was romantic? It could be anything really.

She continued to smile as she grabbed her cloak off the hook and pulled it around her, now knowing exactly then what Ted was playing at. No wonder he had been acting so on edge. Knowing him, he'd probably cooked up some mad idea that her dad could somehow read his thoughts in the other room.

She followed him outside, though she forced her smile off her face in order to play it cool and collected. She needed to act like she wasn't even anticipating a surprise of any kind. Let it take her completely off guard. After all, she was sure she would love whatever it was that he'd planned.

Ted was already on the other end of the porch, leaning up against the outer railing that enclosed the porch from the outside. She causally trekked up along side him, though she tried to catch a look at his face for any sort of clue as to what he was about to say.

"Nicki and Louis are getting along again?" Ted asked, pointing to just outside of the yard. It was there that Louis was standing and talking with both Dominique and Henry; everyone looked to be getting along.

Victoire squinted at the sight across the yard as a cold breeze swept up her hair. "I don't know. They weren't earlier."

"They look like they are," he said.

"She may just being playing nice because Henry's there."

"Is this the same kid she's messing about with, but has no interest in?"

"He would be the one."

"But she apparently has enough interest in him to be civil with Louis in front of him?"

Victoire nodded as if it made a much sense to her as it did to him. "Exactly…"

Ted continued to stare across the yard. "Your sister's weird."

"That not something I need to be told," Victoire said, laughing as she turned her back on the scene in the yard and leaned against the railing. She continued to watch Ted, who seemed almost inclined to look everywhere but at her. What was going through his head?

"You wanted to talk about something?" she asked, prompting him to speak since it occurred to her that they may be standing her for the rest of the afternoon if she left it up to him.

Ted sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly started cracking his knuckles before he picked himself up off the railing to face her. "I did something stupid."

"Stupid?" she asked, the curiosity evident in her face. "What do you mean? What'd you do?"

He wasn't looking at her, but instead cleared his throat and began anxiously bouncing his fingers on the railing. "You're going to hate me," he mumbled under his breath, "but, I thought your birthday was today."

She continued to stare at him. "But I know you know when my birthday is…"

"I do," he said matter-of-factly. "December 30th, 1999. You were born in the afternoon."

"Okay, so…?"

"But initially," he sighed again, "well, until recently, I thought the 30th was today. Not tomorrow."

Victoire shrugged, not entirely understanding what the problem was. "So, you got the day wrong. It's not a big deal."

"It is when—" He stopped, his face already showing signs of an apology she didn't know why he was giving. "When I kind of made other plans."

"You made…?" She pulled her cloak more tightly around her. "Wait, what? I don't underst—"

"Simon's stag party is tomorrow," he said. "He had said months ago that he wanted it the night before the wedding, so obviously that means it's…it's tomorrow night."

"Okay…" said Victoire slowly, still sensing there was more to this than what she was hearing.

"And I'm the one who planned it," he said. "It was one of my jobs as best man."

And then it hit her. Like a punch to the stomach, she suddenly clearly understood exactly what this conversation was about and what he was trying to tell her. "Wait. _You_ planned Simon's party for my birthday, and you didn't realize this until just now?"

"Well, actually yesterday, but it was just a huge misunderstanding—"

Her brow furrowed as she took a step back. "How was it a huge misunderstanding? You just said Simon asked you months ago for his party to be on the night before the wedding. The night before New Year's Eve is the 30th, Ted. It's not like it's changed overnight."

"I just…I didn't make the connection," Ted said, his tone dropping. "When I was planning the thing, I just kept thinking, 'day before New Year's Eve' not—"

"My birthday," Victoire said, finishing for him.

"Vic, I know I should have figured this out sooner, but—"

"So, what are you trying to say?" Victoire asked, interrupting him while crossing her arms across her chest. "You're telling me you want to go to Simon's thing."

He was now purposely not looking her in the eye, but rather watching the coastline at a distance. "I'm saying I have to go Simon's thing."

"You have to?"

"I have to."

"Why do you have to?!" she asked, her tone growing more and more annoyed. "Please explain to me why it's so important to go get piss drunk and act stupid that you _'have'_ to go?"

"Because it's important to Simon."

"You being here on my birthday is important to me," she countered. "I mean, Ted, we had plans."

"We didn't have any concrete ones."

"Because I didn't think I needed to be quilled into my boyfriend's schedule on my birthday!" she said, sounding more and more defensive. "Had I known that it was a battle between who had more going on tomorrow—"

"Vic," Ted said, looking back at her for the first time since this conversation had begun. "This isn't a matter of me going, 'Oh, Simon's sounds more fun, I pick him.' This is a matter of me being there for my best friend when he's asked me to be. You know Simon rarely asks much from me, and— I'm his best man. How does it look if the best man doesn't turn up for the stag party that _he_ planned?"

"I don't know," she said derisively, "I'm too busy wondering what it looks like when my boyfriend plans someone else's party on my birthday."

"Look," he said, his tone staying quite even, though Victoire could tell he was starting to work himself up as much as she was. "I knew you'd be mad. I didn't expect you not to care because I know you and I were supposed to have a really special night—"

"Yeah, _were_…" she muttered.

He bit his lip and looked away. "I was just hoping you'd understand. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me."

"But explain to me why Simon automatically wins this and I automatically lose?" she asked, knowing already that it sounded selfish, but wanting an answer regardless.

"He's not winning anything," Ted muttered. "I mean, yes, if you want to consider a few hours of my time tomorrow night a win, then, perhaps, but…" He looked her square in the eyes. "I went to Simon first, okay? I went to him to see how he would feel about me not going, so technically, on first reaction, you did win."

She stared at him.

"But he…" he looked away, "he reminded me of something I swear I wouldn't do anymore. Something you used to hate about me back when you were still just my friend. It made you stop speaking to me for over a year because you couldn't stand that guy I became when I did it."

She still stared at him.

"I can't make my friends less of a priority because I have a girlfriend," he said honestly. "You know better than anyone that I fall hard and suddenly, my friends start to claim I'm acting like a different person."

Yes, she did know better than anyone how he could be. She had distinct memories of being forced to stand idly by while he dropped everything he was doing for Celia time and time again. She could remember wanting to punch him in the head because of his behavior, but this was an entirely different set of circumstances. This wasn't at all the same thing. She wasn't asking him to eliminate Simon from his life, she wasn't trying to control everything he did and everyone he associated with, and she wasn't trying to manipulate him into doing whatever she wanted him to do. She simply wanted her boyfriend to be there for her on her birthday. Was he honestly trying to compare her to…?

"Are you saying that I'm acting like Celia?" Victoire asked.

"No," Ted said immediately, looking as though that was the last message he'd ever meant to convey. "No, no, no, no, no, no. I wouldn't— you're nothing like— I'm just saying that I'm acting like me. That's the issue here."

She rolled her eyes. That was the issue? She got screwed because Ted felt the need to use her birthday of all nights to prove that he didn't still have some co-dependence issue with girls that stemmed when he was younger? Fantastic.

"If I could somehow make this all work, I would," Ted said feebly, looking off towards the seashore as he spoke. "But this is something I have to do."

"So, even though we barely get to see each other because of school," Victoire began, "and then when we do, you're working most of the time, or off in Russia for the—"

"Vic," he interrupted, "who do you think worked it out so that I could get back home early? Who do you think scored that Portkey for me?"

She pulled her cloak around her tighter. What did that have to do with anything?

"Who do you think was the one who gave us those extra two days together?"

She then quickly realized what he was insinuating. It had been Simon. Of course it had been Simon. She hadn't bothered to think of the "how" Ted got home, but rather only concerned herself with the fact that he had gotten home. He'd probably gone to Simon and asked him for a favor, and Simon dutifully did it because that was the sort of guy Simon was. Always the good friend…

It was then that she realized that—short of resorting to manipulation—there was absolutely no way she was going to sway Ted's decision. He'd made what he'd considered the noble choice, and she was just going to have to deal with that; she was going to have to suck it up. If she bitched and moaned, or guilt tripped him into abandoning his plans, that made her the bitch. It made her no better than Celia and everything she had hated about her.

"Fine," Victoire said after a long moment. She looked away from him and crossed her arms across her chest again. "Fine. Whatever."

Ted sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to do what you have to do," she said, still not looking at him. She was unexpectedly starting to feel emotional all of a sudden. She could feel tears wanting to materialize, but she wasn't going to let them. Not now; not while Ted was standing there. The last thing she was going to do was let him see her cry. She suddenly wished he would just go already so she could escape upstairs and throw herself under her blankets.

"I know you're angry."

Victoire made an obvious noise.

"But is this the sort of angry I should be worried about, or the sort of angry where I need to give you some time to cool down?"

She turned away from him and instead faced the sea, where even the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs was strangely unnerving. It was an interesting question he posed, though she knew the answer was that she just needed time. A part of her wanted to tell him the first option just so he could feel a little of how crappy she felt right now, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it.

"The second one," she said.

"Okay, then," he said, taking a clumsy step backwards. "I'll just…go." He didn't move. "About tomorrow…"

"Have fun," she said dryly.

"I do want to see you."

"Oh, how nice of you to try and fit me into your schedule."

"Vic," said Ted, suddenly sounding rather annoyed. "Would you stop it with this passive aggressive thing? I'd rather you just yelled at me."

That was easy for him to say, but she didn't want to yell. If she yelled, she might say something she regretted given the mood she was currently in. No, she rather enjoyed the passive aggressive approach since it still got the same point across. At least this way, she had control of the words that were coming out of her mouth. Yelling in the heat of the moment didn't always allow that luxury.

"Do you even want me to come over?" he asked

She finally looked back at him.

"Because you're acting like you don't."

She did want him there; that wasn't even something she had to think about. More than anything, she wanted him to be there. She wanted him to change his mind about everything and spend the night with her. It would mean the world to her, but admitting that seemed weak; it seemed like she was simply rolling over and taking it. She didn't like the way that felt when she admitted that to herself.

She looked away again. "It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?"

Of course it mattered. Why was she saying it didn't? She knew she shouldn't be saying that, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth, either.

"No, it doesn't," she lied. "I really don't care."

She could feel Ted staring at her. She wasn't looking at him, but the flip in the tension told her that she had stung him with that comment. That one had probably hurt.

"You don't mean that," he said, and for the first time, she could hear the worry in his tone.

_No, you don't mean that_, she thought._ Stop this right now and tell him that. Stop making this worse than it needs to be._

"Do you mean that?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, noticing immediately the fearful apprehension that was now building in his face. It was the sort of look that reaffirmed everything she had just been thinking; the sort of look that made her feel like complete crap for having caused. She was making this worse than it needed to be. She needed to reassure him that—

"You know, you can be so childish sometimes," Ted mumbled under his breath, the worry in his face now replaced by something else entirely.

Her eyes narrowed. She was what, now?

"You've always acted like this," he added. "If you don't get your way, you pout and try to make everyone else feel as badly as you do. You stand there being passive aggressive and trying to make me feel worse than I already do, when I've already admitted that I made a mistake and I feel like complete shit about it. I can't feel any worse, but you're sure as hell going to try and make me—"

"Oh, get off it, Ted," she snapped as she felt her blood start to rush. "Every time I do something you don't agree with you call me childish, as if _you're_ some beacon of maturity and insight to the world. In case you've forgotten, Ted, you're only a year and a half older than I am. You're not exactly perfect, either!"

Ted closed his eyes, his face looking as if he immediately regretted what had just been said. "I shouldn't have…I didn't mean…I was frustrated and it just slipped out. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one." She directly sidestepped him towards the front door.

"Vic, please. I'm sorry. Please don't…" He sighed. "Can we talk?"

"We've done enough talking," she said, grabbing at the doorknob. "I'm done talking." She pushed the door open. "And to answer your question, don't bother coming by tomorrow. I'd rather spend my birthday with people who don't think I'm childish."

"Please don't run off."

"I'm not running off," she said. "You're running me off."

"I'm right here," he said earnestly, his expression looking a little lost. "I'll do whatever it takes to sort this out right now, but you have to actually talk to me and not just stand there pushing me away."

"I'm done talking," she said, stepping inside of her house. With a quick grab, she reached out to shut the door behind her.

"Vic," he said bluntly. "If you won't talk to me, I'm not going to chase you."

"Good," she said, slamming the door before immediately bracing herself against its other side. Her chest was heaving and she could feel her body shake with repressed emotion. She needed to escape. She needed to get upstairs where she could have a good cry without anyone else seeing her.

He wasn't going to chase her…What did that even mean? She didn't want him to chase her. She didn't even want to see him. In fact, she hoped he was gone. She hoped he had disappeared on the spot. The last thing she felt like doing was dealing with him trying to apologize again for being stupid. Why were boys so stupid?

Her pulse started to slow now, though before she thought better of it, she had already started to walk over to the side window to gaze outside onto the porch. Even though she saw exactly what she was afraid she would see, she was still surprised to actually see it—Ted was gone. He'd disappeared, just like that. He hadn't been bluffing.

Now, she couldn't fight the tears.

"I hate boys!" she yelled, darting towards the stairs.

"Good," said the voice of her father as it drifted out from within the walls of somewhere in the living room.


	33. Brilliant Color

Ted's jaw was still clenched once he appeared hundred of miles away in the back garden of Harry and Ginny's house. What had just…? Why had she…? Why did she _always_ have to act like that!? Why?! He knew she would be mad; he had anticipated that. But did she seriously have to be so petty and sarcastic? If she was mad, why didn't she just say so!? Why couldn't she just talk to him instead of standing there acting like…a child.

He knew immediately that calling her childish was a stupid move, but it had just slipped out in frustration. He couldn't help it. She always acted like this. When she was mad, she refused to hash things out properly; instead she would just shut down, stand there refusing to admit she was really feeling, and then throw up some passive aggressive, snarky comments back in his face to mask the fact that she was really upset. Honestly, who did she think she was kidding by acting like that? He'd known her _her entire life_; he knew exactly what she was doing!

And to think, Victoire criticized her sister for the exact same thing! Sure, Dominique was more in your face and mean, but if Victoire didn't think she and her sister were similar...if she thought she was somehow any better when she got mad—Ted shook his head. Perhaps Victoire needed to flip the mirror back around on herself the next time she started harping on her sister for acting the way she did.

Why did she always have to run away from everything? She couldn't just address the issue, could she? No, she had to run away, slam doors in his face, fume, and let it fester for who the hell knew how long! Hey, maybe she'd run off to France this time, too!? Maybe he'd get to sit around waiting for _another_ month until she decided that perhaps they should talk about things!

He finally unclenched his jaw.

"Ted?" said a voice that he immediately recognized as belonging to James.

He turned to look behind him, noticing that James was standing several feet away; half inside and half outside the back shed of his house. He had a broken broomstick handle in the hand that Ted could actually see.

"Hey…James," Ted said, trying to hide the evident frustration in his tone.

"What's up?" he asked, emerging fully from the shed now.

Ted shook his head distractedly, though glanced up at the house. "Is your dad home?"

James nodded. "Yeah, he and Uncle Ron are inside working on something." His expression grew concerned. "You okay?"

"It's nothing," he lied, turning towards the house and walking straight for back door.

He wasn't sure why he'd thought of coming here, but he wanted to talk to someone. He wanted to vent and bitch and moan, and Harry was the person who would at least understand where he was coming from without holding it against him. He'd always given him straight answers—and a straight answer was exactly what he needed right now.

Ted pulled open the back door, where his eyes immediately settled on Albus, Lily, Rosie, and Hugo all playing Exploding Snap at the kitchen table. All four looked up when Ted entered, and all four shared similar surprised reactions to see him standing there.

"Ted!" said Lily, smiling when she saw him. "What are you—?"

"I came to talk to your dad," he said tersely, not meaning to sound as short as he did, but not apologizing for it either. He knew it wasn't their fault he was in a crap mood, but he also wasn't in the mood to pretend to be cheerful either.

Lily frowned and pointed towards the living room.

That frown did it every time; now he felt guilty. He stopped and sighed. "I'm…I'm just having a bad day."

"What happened?" Albus asked, right as one of his cards exploded in his hand.

Ted waved him off as if it didn't matter, but he had already headed towards the living room. There was no one in there, which made him realize that they were probably in Harry's office. He suddenly hoped they weren't too busy working on whatever it was they were doing. He'd really hate to interrupt if it was something significant.

The door to Harry's office was half closed, though Ted could distinctly hear Ron saying something about Azkaban being under renovation. Ted couldn't quite make out what it was Harry said in response, but what it was, it had made Ron laugh.

He reached out and knocked lightly on the door, involuntarily pushing it forwards several inches as he did. On the sofa in the corner of the room, Ron, who was comfortably sprawled out across it, looked up first.

"Look who it is," said Ron, just as Harry leaned forward from his seat behind the door to see who he was talking to.

"Ted," said Harry, sounding a little surprised as he let the chair he'd been leaning back in slump forward. "What are you up to?"

Ted forced a tepid smile, but it dropped off his face almost as quickly as he had mustered it. "I don't want to interrupt if you're busy, but I was wondering if you had a second?"

"Sure," Harry said, leaning forward to drop a packet of papers he'd had in his lap onto his desk. "We were just finishing up anyway."

"Finally," said Ron, sitting himself up on the couch to make room. "I feel like," he yawned, "we've been doing this assignment for weeks."

"Probably because we have been doing this assignment for weeks," Harry countered, now yawning himself. He looked back at Ted. "Anyway, what's going on?"

Ted sighed and stepped further into the room. "It's just…" He shook his head and made a face.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked, watching his expression.

"You could…" Ted began before trailing off. "Yes."

"Work?"

He shook his head. "No, it's…Victoire and I had an argument."

Ron let out a low whistle. "Uh-oh."

"What kind of an argument?" Harry asked. "Did the two of you…?"

"No, I mean, we're still together, but…" He started cracking his knuckles. "She's just so frustrating and bloody stubborn sometimes."

Ron smirked. "Welcome to the life of Weasley women."

"What happened?" asked Harry, leaning himself back into his chair once again.

Ted plopped himself down onto the edge of Harry desk and, with a deep breath, started from beginning and recounted everything that had happened—from his mix-up with the date, to his conversation with Simon, to him going to see Victoire, to her reacting to the news, to the argument itself. He'd spared no detail.

When he was done, Ron let out another low whistle.

"Well, first of all," said Harry, his tone almost instructional. "You knew she'd be upset."

"Obviously," Ted said. "Of course she would be. I didn't expect her not to be, but I wish she'd just come right out and tell me that instead of shutting me out and then running away."

Harry shrugged. "Some people are like that." He looked at Ron. "Perhaps it runs in the family."

"What's that mean?" Ron asked.

Harry rolled his eyes, but smirked. "Ever since we were kids, I had you shutting down and brooding whenever we got into an argument. You'd get upset and run off…"

"Maybe it does run in the family…" Ted muttered, being reminded exactly of Victoire.

"You weren't exactly Mr. Let's-Talk-About-My-Feelings, either," Ron countered, staring at Harry. "More like Mr. I-Bottle-It-Up-Until-I-Can't-Take-It-Anymore-And-Then-Yell-At-Everybody-Within-Earshot."

Harry laughed loudly. "Nobody's perfect," he looked back at Ted, "which is sort of the point. Trust me. I know how frustrating it is to have to deal with that passive aggressive, in denial attitude."

"Well, you're welcome," Ron quipped.

"But you can't really change who these people are," Harry added. "You really just have to adapt and realize that it's more a defense mechanism than them actually being spiteful. Take Ron, for example."

"Okay, I refuse to believe you don't know other people who act like this that you can use as examples," Ron muttered.

"Back when we were younger, being my friend wasn't exactly the easiest job."

"When we were younger?" Ron joked. "Has something changed?"

"And I'm not just talking about the obvious Voldemort stuff," Harry continued, ignoring Ron. "But more the fact that you had to deal with the stigma attached to me. People made me out to be larger than life, or they would give me special treatment, which isn't an easy shadow to be in."

Ron hummed.

"And there was definitely several times that you," Harry gestured to Ron, "got fed up with it. Remember fourth year?"

"After your name came out of the Goblet of Fire?"

"Yeah."

Ron hummed again.

Harry looked back at Ted. "Instead of just telling me he why he upset, he got all sarcastic and defensive, and I thought he was just attacking me for the sake of being a prat. Needless to say I didn't understand when I was fourteen, but looking back now I see that's always been Ron's first line of defense. When he's upset, he closes off communication and gets passive aggressive."

"Can we do someone else now?" Ron asked. "How about we do Hermione next?"

"We'd be here all day," Harry muttered.

Ron laughed a little, though abruptly stopped. "Wait a second…"

"But back to Victoire," Harry said. "She's a Weasley, so by default she's got this inbred stubbornness. That you'll just have to understand."

"The faster you do, the easier life becomes," Ron added.

"You can't change the way she's going to react when she's upset, though if she's anything like Ron, she'll always come around after a little time."

"I do," Ron said, pointing at himself. "I do do that."

Ted looked at the ground and let that idea sit with him. Sure, Victoire always did come around after a little time, but why did he always have to be the one to wait that time out without knowing what to do? How was that fair to him?

"So, you're saying I'm just supposed to put up with it?" Ted asked. "I have to wait for her to come around?"

"Not always," said Ron. "But a lot of the time," he shrugged, "yeah. It all ties into that stubborn nature."

"What it comes down to," said Harry, "is that if you love her, you need to learn to adapt. You need to adapt to her and she needs to adapt to you. It's the whole point of relationships. If she needs some time to cool down, give it to her. Pushing her to come around isn't going to fix things any faster."

"And," Ron said to Ted, "you two having always been as close as you are, you should know that better than anyone. She's always been like this."

"Yeah," Ted murmured, "but this was a lot easier to deal with before we had a relationship on the line."

"You've always had some sort of a relationship on the line," Ron continued. "That hasn't changed since you were babies. The only difference is that now you've got a lot more at stake in it."

"He's right," said Harry, looking back at Ted. "You're getting more out of it now, so you can't be surprised when you have to put more into it. Things that didn't matter when you were friends are now looked at in an entirely different way."

Ted puffed his cheeks up full of air and slowly exhaled. For whatever reason, a memory from the previous year sprung into his mind. He had been standing in this very house, Harry's house, with Victoire while she had been babysitting the kids, and she had asked him if he was going to come to her birthday party. He hadn't been able to because of work, but she had just shrugged it off as no big deal. She hadn't even seemed that bothered by it.

He tried to imagine himself in that exact situation again, only work became Simon's stag party. When they were friends, Victoire would have probably shrugged it off in a similar manner once she realized how significant the occasion was for Simon. However, now that they were dating, the fact that he was missing her birthday to go to someone else's party took on a whole new level of meaning. Things really had changed significantly when he thought about it that way.

"So, what do I do?" Ted asked, his annoyance slowly subsiding. "She told me she doesn't want to see me tomorrow, but do I go anyway? Do I listen to her? Do I give her time like you said? What do I do to fix this?"

"It's hard to say because it's different for everyone," said Harry. "I know that when Ginny says she wants to be left alone, she means it."

"Hermione's half and half," Ron offered. "There are times she'll say she wants to be alone and mean it, and then times where she just wants me to make the effort." His expression grew pensive. "It's taken me many years to be able decipher which is which."

"And yet…" Harry said.

"Oh, I won't claim to have it down pat," Ron laughed. "But she's learned to deal with me not always making the right choice, and we've worked through it. It's all about working through it."

Harry looked back at Ted. "You're the one who knows Victoire, so you have to make that decision."

"Though," Ron said, "I will say that it being her birthday does create added incentive to make _some_ effort. I read that in a book once when I was younger."

"So, I should stop by?" Ted asked.

"I didn't say that," said Ron. "For all we know she really doesn't want to see you tomorrow. You just need to feel out the situation for yourself. If it were me, I'd still send something regardless—a card, or flowers, or a present, or something like that. The earlier the better. That way she gets a good taste in her mouth and doesn't spend the whole day thinking about how the last contact you two had was some row the day before."

"Ted, you'll figure it out," Harry said. "I know you will. The best advice I can give you is to not dwell on the small stuff." He suddenly laughed a little. "I can't say I've always heeded my own advice, but there's always going to be stuff we put up with in relationships that we don't always like. But, as long as the good outweighs the bad, then those things become insignificant in the grand scheme."

Ron laughed. "From the mouth Harry Potter, ladies and gentlemen." He gestured to him. "Dark wizard destroyer _and_ philosopher to the people. Is there anything he _can't_ do?"

Both Harry and Ron shared a laugh at that, though Ted only managed a small smile. He still was no closer to knowing exactly how he should handle tomorrow one way or the other, and that thought alone was more frustrating than any argument he'd had lately.

**

* * *

**On the morning of her birthday, Victoire had been awakened by someone abruptly shaking her shoulders. She had no idea what time it was, nor did she really care, but she certainly wished whomever it was attempting to rouse her at the moment would stop.

"Good morning, love," said her mother. "'Appy birthday!"

Victoire blinked her eyes awake, her face still buried in her pillow. She made herself withhold the groan she felt like bellowing, and instead lazily turned onto her side. On the edge of her bed, her mother sat smiling down at her.

"Thank you," Victoire said groggily.

"Eighteen," said her mother. "You 'ave grown up so fast. I can still remember 'olding you as a little baby. Oh, what a beautiful baby you were. Such a perfect little girl."

"It hasn't seemed so fast from where I'm sitting," Victoire said, forcing a smile. She reached up the rub the sleep out of the corners of her eyes, noting that they felt quite heavy as she did. It wasn't just her eyes though; her head also felt considerably weighty. Add to that the fact that her heart and thoughts were still burdening her from the night before and it seemed almost everything about her was weighing her down.

Her mother stood and immediately set to work tucking the blankets in around the bottom corner of the bed, making it up while Victoire was still in it. "Are you feeling better?" she asked. "You went to sleep so early yesterday."

Victoire shifted herself where she sat in an attempt to avoid messing up her mother's sheet work. It was true; she had gone to bed especially early yesterday. After her argument with..._him_…she had retreated upstairs to shut herself away for the rest of the evening. It was there that she had cried for awhile before going and getting herself mad again after she'd replayed the fight back in her head. She had spent the better part of two hours flipping back and forth between being angry and being sad until she had actually tired of thinking about it entirely. When that had happened, she had decided to busy herself with the finishing her homework, which had seemed like a strange idea at first considering her mood; oddly enough though, it was the only thing that sat right with her. She simply wanted to keep herself preoccupied.

The act of going downstairs to gather the homework she had left in the kitchen was the only time Victoire had left her room during the course of the entire previous evening. It was there that she had run into her mother making dinner, and in turn had told her—while avoiding her eyes for fear of her suspecting something was wrong—that she didn't feel well and that she wasn't going to be eating. She hadn't elaborated on the circumstances, but simply excused herself before going back to her room, where she had finished her homework and gone to bed early.

"I feel a little better," Victoire said.

"Good," said her mother, clapping her hands together. "Come now. Get dressed and start your day. You must be famished after skipping dinner, so your fazur has made you your favorite breakfast. And I 'ave already stared on your soufflé. Zen, once Jane gets 'ere, we can go out and shop for a bit to get you a present. We will 'ave such a lovely day."

Victoire smiled a little.

"Now," asked her mother, turning towards the door to exit the room, "'Ave you made plans for tonight? I know you 'ad said something about Teddy—"

"No plans," she said, her smile disappearing.

"Iz somezing wrong?"

"No," Victoire said, her tone all together indicative that this was not something she was going to discuss at the moment.

Her mother stared at her curiously for a moment, but didn't look as if she was about to push the subject any further. "So, would you like me to make bouillabaisse for dinner? I know you love it, but I would need to pick up a few items if you do."

"That would be great," Victoire said, her smile once again returning. She couldn't help but think that this all seemed slightly excessive. Sure, they were always given special treatment on their birthdays, but this almost seemed like her mother was going above the usual sort of thing. Breakfast and dinner, a trip shopping; it was almost as if she suspected something was bothering her without knowing any of the details.

Regardless, the idea of all her favorite foods, a day out, and her mum taking special care of her seemed especially wonderful at the moment. It seemed worth getting out of bed for. It was exactly the sort of thing she needed after yesterday.

"What time do you expect Jane?" asked her mother before she disappeared back into the hallway.

"Around eleven," Victoire said, pulling herself out of bed and thinking of the plans she had made with Whit that day. Originally, due to the fact that she had _thought_ she was spending her evening with…_him_…she had told Whit that they could spend the day together. Now, it seemed like that didn't matter one way or the other. She could have had Whit come over that night after all, and she could have even had her spend the night had she known ahead of time that…_he_…had made other plans.

Then again…maybe it wasn't too late to see if Whit could spend the night. It would offer her a distraction, and she knew Whit would guarantee her a fun night. It would be much better than sitting around and sulking.

Quickly, Victoire pulled her robe off of its hook before following her mother out into the hallway. "Mum?"

Her mother had already reached the bottom of the stairs, but stopped and looked back up at her.

"Do you think I could ask Whit to spend the night?"

Her mother shrugged, looking as if she didn't see a problem with that. "Of course."

She smiled. Excellent. This was going to be a good day, after all. She was going make the best of things, no matter what sort of thoughts she had nagging at the back of her head. The day was hers for the taking, and she was going to take advantage of that fact without letting _other _outside factors bring her down.

With a bounce in her step, Victoire took to the stairs and skipped off the bottom one before turning towards the kitchen. She could already smell the delicious aroma of fried eggs and bacon wafting towards her, and her thoughts were instantly invaded by memories of all the occasions her father took to make this very breakfast. Even though it wasn't exactly a difficult dish, her father made the best fried eggs in the world. They were always the perfect consistency and texture, and they were always seasoned just right. Nothing in the world compared to her father's eggs.

"Morning, Vicki," her father said as she walked into the kitchen to see him pointing his wand at a sizzling frying pan. "Happy birthday."

She smiled and glanced at Louis and Dominique, both of whom were sitting at the kitchen table splitting the _Daily Prophet_ between them. Neither seemed to notice her.

Her father cleared his throat obviously. "I said, 'happy birthday'." He nudged Louis's chair.

Without taking their eyes off of what they were reading, both Louis and Dominique mumbled, "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," Victoire said, sitting down across from her sister to wait for breakfast to finish cooking. She helped herself to juice and glanced out the window to take notice of the day. It was grey out, and probably still very cold, but the sky wasn't nearly as dreary as it could be, so that was saying something. She knew it was too much to ask for beautiful, sunshine filled day out of the end of December, but a not-so ugly looking day was a start.

"Colson of the Tornados tied Bolten's all time Snitch catches last night," Dominique said, though Victoire wasn't exactly sure to whom she was speaking to. "That's wicked impressive."

"He was bound to do it," Louis said, his eyes scanning the front page, where the headline read, _Azkaban under renovation: Expected to last six months._

"I just didn't expect it to be this season," Dominique said as she flipped the paper over to the back. "I thought he still had another to go."

"I predicted he'd do it this season," Louis said.

"Yes, yes," Dominique said lazily. "You're a regular Seer."

Victoire watched them both for a moment, suddenly realizing that they were speaking to each other again; an actual conversation was being had without tension or hostility. Dominique had even cracked a joke at Louis's expense that hadn't been inherently mean. Something had apparently happened while Victoire had spent her evening locked up away in her room.

She swallowed her juice. "You're talking again?"

Louis looked over his paper at her, though Dominique didn't bother to.

"You made up?" Victoire asked.

"Are you really surprised?" Louis asked.

"Honestly, Vic," Dominique said, still not taking her eyes off the sport section. "It's really not a big deal."

Victoire caught Louis flinch slightly, which made her think that it hadn't been exactly as easy as Dominique had just made it seem. By the looks of things, their cordial behavior in front of Henry Davies yesterday seemed to have sparked some sort of apology out of one of them—probably Louis—and they had decided to make amends. She actually wanted to know the details of what had happened, but asking right now didn't seem like the right place. Perhaps in a few days once everything had really blown over.

"And here we are," said her father, appearing at the table with the frying pan in his hand. "Birthday girl goes first." He piled several friend eggs onto Victoire's plate before turning to Dominique. "Nicki's next."

"Can I have extra bacon?" Victoire asked.

"It's your birthday, sweetie," her father said, smiling at her. "You can have whatever you want."

"I want extra bacon…" Louis mumbled.

"You can have extra bacon on your birthday," he said.

"Yeah, but then I have to split it with her," he pointed at Dominique, "because it's her birthday, too. I never just get my own portion of extra bacon."

"Your life is so hard," their father said, faking sympathy. "However do you manage?"

Dominique and Victoire snickered.

"You know, honestly," their father continued, "I would have killed to get extra bacon with my breakfast on my birthday. I was lucky to get a single piece the way your uncles used to go at. Nine people crowded around a table every morning, if you weren't quick, you were eating scraps."

"Back when I was your age…" Dominique said, making her voice purposely sound old.

This time, Louis and Victoire laughed, though even their father couldn't help but smile at that. He pretended to throw Dominique a sharp look as he stepped aside to fix himself a plate of food. "One day, you'll see…"

"Iz ze food ready?" asked her mother as she appeared in the kitchen.

"Just finished."

Without hesitating, her mother went to take the seat next to Victoire, but quickly jumped back up, as if startled. "Oh, Victoire."

Victoire looked up at her mother, but saw that she was already setting off towards the living room.

"I almost…" she said, her voice fading the further and further she walked away.

"I can't hear you, Mum," Victoire called after her.

There was no response. Victoire turned towards the other room to see where her mother may have gone, but she had completely disappeared from sight. It wasn't until Victoire turned back around in her chair to refocus on her breakfast that her mother's voice returned.

"What I said," her mother continued, "was zat I almost forgot."

"Almost forgot what—?"

She stopped when her mother placed an overly large vase filled with fresh, beautifully colored flowers down in front of her. Its size alone had completely blocked Dominique out on the other side of the table.

"Zese came earlier," her mother added, reaching out to haphazardly adjust and reposition some of the flowers around. "Aren't zey lovely?"

Victoire eyes went wide at the sight of them. They were beautiful. A collection of lilies, orchids, pansies, roses, chrysanthemums—and those were just the ones she could recognize. It was a complete and utter explosion of color.

"Wow…" said Louis, taking in the display for himself.

"Wow is right," mumbled Dominique.

"Those are some flowers," said her father, staring a little blankly at the vase that now sat in the middle of the table.

"There's a card," said Dominique, reaching up into the center of the bouquet to pull it out. As she did, her mother swatted her hand.

"Zat iz not yours."

"I was just going to hand it to her," she said defensively.

"Zere iz a card," said her mother, gesturing to the small piece of paper for—what Victoire assumed—was her benefit.

Victoire hesitated taking it, and instead continued to stare at the flowers in front of her. She wasn't sure whether or not she even wanted to read the card, given that she already—rather obviously—figured out who these were from. Whatever the card may say, she wasn't sure if she could quite handle it at the moment. She was in such a good mood that reading anything from Ted right now was bound to remind her…to bring her back to yesterday's argument. He was the last thing she wanted to think about, but he didn't seem to want to let her do that. He had to go and send her flowers.

"Vic?" said Dominique. "Anybody home? Are you going to read the card?"

She blinked, having not realized that she'd zoned out. Everyone in the room was either looking at her or inspecting her flowers curiously. They were all waiting for her to go ahead and open her card.

With a heavy sigh, she sat up straight and reached forward to pull out the small card that lay within the middle of the bouquet. She held it in her hands for a moment to bide her time, but she knew she had no choice but to read what it said. Everyone was watching her.

She pulled it from the envelope and glanced down.

_I once promised you some not-so secret flowers. Happy Birthday. _

That was it. It was unsigned, though the message clearly indicated that it was from Ted. She read it twice before dropping it down on the table.

"They're from Ted," she said finally.

"Well, of course zey are," her mother laughed. "I do not zink any of us suspected ozerwise."

"Those look like apology flowers more than birthday flowers," Dominique said, leaning herself to the right in order to see Victoire around the other side of the vase.

Victoire's eyes narrowed onto her sister. "Why do you…?"

"Was that row you two had that bad?" Louis asked.

"You two had a row?" asked her father.

"They looked like they were," Dominique said, now staring up at the flowers to inspect them. "At least it did from where I was standing."

"You heard us?" Victoire asked.

"More like saw you," Louis said.

"We figured Ted left so quickly for a reason," Dominique added. "Plus, he looked pissed off when he did."

"You 'ad a fight?" asked her mother, now staring at Victoire with concern. "Iz zat why you shut yourself away in your room last night?"

"It was nothing," Victoire lied, picking up her fork and stabbing at her eggs. "I don't want to talk about it. In fact," she looked up at the flowers, "can someone please move those so we can eat properly?"

No one said or did anything; everyone watched as Victoire continued to stab at her eggs until she finally took a bite. Just like that, her good mood had been soured. The last thing she wanted to do was be reminded of yesterday, let alone have her entire family now sitting there staring at her and wondering what exactly had happened. It wasn't any of their business.

"Lou," said her father, his voice cutting through the silence. "Move those," he gestured to the flowers, "to the counter over there. Would you?"

Louis did as he was told and picked up the vase, setting them just off to the side on the pantry counter. The sudden lack of brilliant color hit Victoire's eyes immediately, only to now be replaced by the grey sky from just outside the window.

_Much better_, she thought. Now that was a far more appropriate match to her mood.


	34. A Night Out

It was seven minutes after nine o'clock when Ted finally managed to leave his seemingly endless twelve hour shift at St. Mungo's.

What would have usually been considered a relatively easy day on any normal occasion had instead felt as though the stress of the world was sitting on top of his back, riding him around and following him everywhere he happened to go. He actually felt physically stressed; his back hurt, he had a kink in his neck from having slept on it poorly, and he couldn't seem to shake the headache he'd developed at the base of his skull no matter what remedy potions he tried. It was as if his body was content with staying as irksome as possible. Perhaps it wanted him to suffer…

But plaguing aches and pains or not, as soon as his shift was over, Ted wasted no time in Apparating across town to Diagon Alley, where he dropped most of his things off at his flat before walking himself—and Simon's requested hangover remedies—down the street to the Dragon's Breath Pub. No matter how he felt, he wasn't going to let it deter him from his plans that night; especially since Victoire was already mad at him. He didn't have anything else to lose.

After a day spent musing over the situation, he had decided to give her space and not go and visit her. He'd thought long and hard and realized that, yes, it was her birthday and, yes, he was probably making a very, very stupid choice, but she had said she didn't want to see him. She had said those words; those words had come out of her mouth. If she hadn't meant it, she shouldn't have said it. He was tired of playing that game, and he wasn't going to let her continue to think that she could say things like that without expecting them to come true. Ask and you shall receive…

Was he making things worse? Possibly…but it was too late now.

That wasn't to say Ted hadn't made some effort. He'd taken Ron's advice and sent her some flowers, as if to say that even though she had said she didn't want to see him today, he was still thinking about her. He wanted her to know that the reason he hadn't stopped by _wasn't_ because he hadn't wanted to, but because _she_ had told him not to. She had said it; he was just following her wishes. Her birthday wishes.

Needless to say, he had no idea what was going to happen next, but he was trying not to think about that tonight. Tonight, he just wanted to get completely, utterly, drunk; forget about his problems; forget about girls; forget about arguments; and enjoy his best friend's last night as a bachelor. He could work everything else out later. Right now, he needed a break.

Upon finally reaching the Dragon's Breath, he dodged a group of surly looking goblins as they exited, and just caught the door closing behind them before he squeezed across the threshold. Inside, the familiar odors of pipe tobacco, stale air, alcohol, and various other pungent aromas struck him instantly. The place was crowded, just as it always was on the weekends, and various witches and wizards of all ages and makes were drinking, laughing, yelling, and even in some cases crying. The sounds of clicking glasses and animated voices carried throughout the room, adding a definite energy and life to the room. In the corner, another large group of goblins sat conversing rapidly in gobbledegook, though Ted couldn't make out if they were happy or upset. Their range of emotions all seemed to be the same.

He heaved a calming breath as he scanned the room for Simon, or anyone else he may recognize in the crowd. He knew he was late, but he didn't mind if everyone else had gotten started without him, given that he had every intention of being just as drunk they probably were in just under an hour's time. He just needed to get started…

Ted searched the crowded room for over a minute to no avail, but once he made his way towards the center of the crowds, he finally spotted Simon standing next to a cluster of tables at the other side of the room. Around him, a group of men were all watching as he waved his hands animatedly while he talked—something he always did when he was telling a story. Ted took an added second to watch the display before he smiled and made his way towards their direction. Knowing Simon, he was probably embellishing on something that most likely hadn't ever happened.

Simon had turned and spotted Ted first, pointing directly at him as he approached through the crowd. As he pointed, he had tried to step forward to meet Ted halfway, but accidently stumbled over something and nearly tripped on his own two feet before catching himself on a table. By the looks of things, he had already tossed quite a few drinks back.

"Hey!" shouted Simon, inspecting his pint glass to see if anything had spilled during his loss of balance. "You actually came!"

"I told you I was coming," Ted said, grinning a little as he scanned the faces around him. He recognized some of the people, though most he didn't. Many were from Simon's office at the Department of Magical Transportation, while others looked as though they worked at the Ministry in some facet. There was a group of blonde, burly men that looked just like Simon, which Ted deduced immediately were probably his cousins; then a few faces that stood out from the crowd that Ted recognized from Hogwarts, including their old dormmate, Caleb. It seemed a fair amount of people had showed up.

"You did say you were coming," Simon added, his words slurred as he slapped Ted on the back, "but I told you I wouldn't believe it until I saw it. I figured you'd cave after you walked with Victoire"

"After I walked with her?"

"No, I said talked," Simon corrected. "After you talked with her."

"You said walked."

Simon blinked, looking confused. "I said walked, what? What are you on about?"

Ted smiled and shook his head. "I need to be as drunk as you are right now."

"I don't dink I'm thunk yet," Simon said, looking as if he was actually considering his current state of mind. "Close, but not yet."

"Either way," Ted said as he nodded hello to a waving Caleb upon being noticed, "After my last twenty-four hours, I need to get pissed immediately."

"Was Victoire mad?"

Ted's expression turned ominous.

"Shit, I knew that would 'appen…" said Simon, his tone sympathetic. "Sorry, mate. But don't you worry, she loves you." He grabbed Ted by the shoulder, wobbling slightly. "You two were made," he hiccupped, "for each other. This'll work itself out. It can't not. This is something too stupid for you two to fall apart over."

"Yeah, well," muttered Ted, glancing towards the bar. "I sure hope so. But I need a drink."

"Yeah, come on, then," Simon said, pointing towards the bar. "Catch up. You're already well behind. You need to make up for lost time. I still need to introduce you to all these people…"

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Ted consumed more pints and shots than he could remember in record memory. It was partially because people were buying them and he couldn't turn them down, but mostly because he simply wanted to erase every coherent thought out of his head and turn his brain into mush for the next several hours. He didn't want to have to feel guilty anymore, he didn't want to think, and he only wanted to get into the spirit of the party like Simon and his friends were. Those were his only goals.

Luckily for him, getting into the spirit wasn't too hard. In fact, it was almost easy to get lost in things considering the company around him. Simon alone provided a huge distraction, what with his random stories and drunken antics. Always the center of attention, Simon even went so far as to approach the table of goblins to ask them if they'd like to come and join his party. They thankfully declined, though Ted had to admit that watching Simon as he tried to make a table full of goblins get into the spirit of things—while offering to buy them drinks if they did a little jig with him—was probably the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed.

Not to mention that Simon's friends from the Ministry were a load of laughs once Ted slowly started to remember many of them from their campsite at the Quidditch World Cup. Simon had claimed that he'd introduced almost everyone sitting there to Ted at some point during the World Cup, but Ted had a hard time placing most of their faces. He had to lie and tell most of the people who claimed to have met him already that he had spent most of that World Cup weekend too drunk remember anyone, though the real reason was because he'd been far too preoccupied that weekend with other things…but he tried not to think about that considering who it made him think of.

It had only taken him a few hours, but once the night was in full swing, Ted could feel both his face starting to numb and his mind becoming a blur of thoughts and delayed reactions. He could no longer think straight, but that was a good thing as far as he was concerned. He didn't want to think straight. He didn't ever want to think straight again. He just wanted to laugh and enjoy feeling absolutely nothing. Nothing was good…

"Yes, I am getting married tomorrow," said Simon's voice, abruptly cutting into Ted's thoughts.

Ted blinked a few times and realized he'd been staring off into space and ignoring everything around him. He looked up to see Simon and a few of his coworkers talking to a group of girls that had made their way over.

"On New Year's Eve?" asked one of the girls, who looked to be a few years older than either Ted or Simon were.

"That's so sweet," said another girl.

"That's just the kind of guy I am," said Simon, his words practically incoherent. He suddenly reached out and put his arm around Ted before shaking him heartily. "This guy right here is my best man."

"Oh, don't shake me," Ted said as a small wave of momentary nausea swept over him. "That would not be wise."

"That's quite the honor," said one of the girls, though Ted could barely decipher her from the next one. They all looked the same in their own blurry, out-of-focus sort of way.

"Yeah, it is," Ted said, nodding and throwing Simon a funny smile. "A very big honor."

"So," said one of Simon's Ministry friends, who was now making eyes at the girls in question, "where are you ladies from…?"

"So, hey," said Simon, turning away from the conversation in front of them to nudge Ted. "I've got an announcement."

Ted stared at him through squinted eyes. "Sorry?"

"I've got an announcement."

"Okay?"

"I'm going to make it."

"Fantastic," Ted muttered, wondering if he was just too drunk to understand why Simon was telling him he was going to make an announcement instead of just making it.

Simon stood up. "Make sure you listen, okay? This is big stuff."

"Yes, sir," Ted said before throwing him a faux salute. He took the moment to lean back in his chair, but accidently let his head smack against the wall a little harder than he would have liked it to. He groaned as he reached back to rub the back of his skull. Why did he always have a tendency to bang himself up when he was drunk? It was as if a few drink made him the world biggest klutz.

"Oye!" Simon yelled over the noise in an attempt to command everyone's attention. Most of his friends turned to see what he was on about, though the ones who were still trying to make nice with the girls from earlier seemed far too preoccupied to care. "I have an announcement."

Someone cheered, while someone else yelled, "Go on, then!"

Simon stood there with his finger raised, as if beckoning for one moment. He puffed up his chest. "Okay, so I'm pissed as shit right now."

Several people laughed and clapped.

"So, if I don't make sense, then, fuck it…" He attempted to stand up straight, but instead just swayed on the spot. "But see, I'm getting married tomorrow, but I'm also having a kid. And I just found out this morning, that—" He stopped, though Ted couldn't tell if it was for dramatic effect or if he'd actually lost his train of thought for a moment. "I just feel like sharing with all my friends here that…I am…" he smiled, "having a boy!"

Ted gaped a little as he processed the weight behind Simon's news. He knew the sex of the baby. He was having a boy. A real little boy. That made everything seem infinitely more real…

Everyone within arm's length of Simon had jumped up to pat him on the back, or shake his hand, or in some cases, jump at him to shake and congratulate him. Just as quickly, the conversations had all begun to shift to topics of, "I hope he doesn't look like you, Simon!" to "Poor Susan, stuck with two little boys to take care of now!"

Ted watched as Simon stood there at the center of everyone else's attention, just as he always was. He was garnering all the warm wishes, cries of congratulations, drunken cheers, and living up a highly exciting moment in his life; a moment that Ted hoped that he'd actually remember come morning…

It took Simon over a minute to appear from within the dog pile of well-wishers, but when he did, he caught Ted's eye and smiled. He shrugged in a _"can you believe it?"_ sort of way that could almost be considered modest. Almost…

"And I'm not naming him after any of you!" Simon shouted, smiling as he pointed around the group. "So, don't bother asking!" He plopped back down in the seat next to Ted.

Ted smirked. "A boy."

"A boy," Simon repeated, looking off across the room. "Who would have thought?"

"It was either a going to be a boy or a girl, you know," said Ted obviously. "So, I'm sure plenty of people thought—"

"You know, you're too lilleral when you're drunk."

"What the hell does lilleral mean?"

"You know what it means," Simon said, waving his hand in the air. "You're too exact about stuff. You've always been too lilleral."

"Wait, do you mean literal?" asked Ted. "I'm too literal?"

"That's what I said, you dumb wanker."

Ted stared at him for a moment, but didn't even attempt to hide his laughter once it overcame him. His laughed only seemed to make Simon want to laugh as well, and they both sat there in near hysterics for a good solid minute until Ted couldn't even remember why he was laughing in the first place. All he knew was that whatever it was had been really funny. Laughing that hard had felt good.

He stood and gestured to the bar. "I'm going up there to get a drink. You want something?"

Simon shook his head. "Nah, I'm trying to pace myself. We've still got the whole rest of the night and I'm already..." He stopped and made a goofy face.

"We do have a long night ahead of us," said Ted, remembering that this was only the first of several stops the night had ahead of them. "All right then," he turned toward the bar. "I'll be back."

Ted immediately noticed that his legs felt heavy and jellylike as he walked, though he still mostly had control of his balance, which he considered that a good thing. People and things around the room were slightly out of focus, and the lights had a bright starburst circling them, but since the room wasn't spinning yet, that meant he still had plenty of life left in him to continue drinking. Hell, even if the room did start spinning, maybe he'd just keep it up. He could use a good spin.

He made his way through the crowd that surrounded the bar and leaned himself up against the polished, but cracked countertop. The barmaid was busy down on the other end talking to a group of wizards who were blatantly flirting with her, which meant Ted would just have to wait his turn until—

"Look at you, Lupin," shouted a voice from somewhere to his left. "You're completely pissed."

Ted turned to look a little too quickly and the kink in his neck shot a stabbing pain through the rest of his body. He reached up to rub it, right as he noticed Durrin of all people sitting just two stools down from where he was standing. He laughed as he recognized him, but pushed away from his spot at the bar to walk down to where he was sitting. "Yeah, I'm not going to claim I'm not." He shrugged. "Funny seeing you out of the hospital. What are you up to?"

Durrin gestured to his beer. "Clearly, not as many as you are." He cracked a smile. "No, I'm just out grabbing a pint. I work at six in the morning, so I'm taking it easy."

Ted nodded quickly. "Yeah, it's my mate's stag party, so…" He pointed in the direction of where Simon should be, even though Simon was no where to be found at the moment.

"Right, you mentioned something about that the other day," Durrin said, turning in his chair to see where Ted was pointing. "You seem like you're having a good time."

"Definitely," Ted said, leaning against the bar to steady his balance.

"It's almost funny," Durrin began, looking him up and down. "Well, no, actually it _is_ funny to see you completely wasted."

"I like to think I'm two very different people when it comes to being at work and being away from work," Ted said, wondering if that at all made sense. It had made sense to him in his head, but when he had said it out loud, it suddenly seemed strange.

Durrin laughed and gestured to the person sitting next to him, a guy with dark blonde hair and a short, well kept beard. "This is Stu. He's a friend of mine. Stu, this is Ted. I work with him at the hospital."

"Nice to meet you," said Stu, who nodded his head hello as he took a swig from his pint glass.

Ted nodded back, but stared at him for a moment longer than what was probably normal. Perhaps it was because the alcohol was delaying his reaction time, but he recognized this guy from somewhere. From where, he didn't know, but there was something about him that seemed oddly familiar.

"So, you said your friend's getting married tomorrow?" Durrin asked, picking up his glass and drinking from it.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Ted said, just as the barmaid finally made her way down to his end of the bar. "Tomorrow evening. They wanted to take advantage of New Year's Eve or something, I don't kno—Excuse me!"

The barmaid had clearly heard him, but she held up a hand to motion for one moment. She was busy eyeing the two large, burly men in the stools next to Ted who looked as if they were having some sort of disagreement and mumbling something about goblins. The barmaid seemed to be cautiously watching them, waiting to see if it would somehow escalate into something more than a disagreement. It took her over a minute to finally tear her eyes away from them to take Ted's drink order.

"You're not working tomorrow then, I take it?" Durrin asked after the barmaid finally placed a pint in front of Ted.

Ted shook his head. "Nope, though it seems I have to work three overnights in a row after tomorrow since Hazel seems to think that's a fair price to pay for giving me _one_ day off." He made a face. "I'm just glad she made this week's schedule before that argument we had yesterday, or else she probably would have made me work tomorrow."

"Probably," Durrin said. "Hey, about that yesterday, though. You weren't around for what happened after."

"Yeah, because I wanted to get the hell out of there," Ted muttered.

"No, but listen to this," Durrin continued. "I found out yesterday from Nate that's there's a whole other side to this story that we don't even know about."

Ted rolled his eyes. "There's always a whole other side. I've stopped give a rat's arse about the whole other side…"

"Yeah, well, you'll care about this when you find out that Hazel doesn't plan on ratting us out to Herbertson."

Ted looked back at him, wondering if he'd ever heard him right. He had been positive—no, more than positive—that after yesterday Hazel would have run straight off to tell their boss everything about what had happened with Russia. He had thought she wouldn't have wasted any time doing it.

"Get this," Durrin said, swigging from his glass again. "Hazel knew we were coming back early. She knew before we'd even left Russia in the first place."

Ted squinted at him. "What?"

"Yeah, Nate didn't tell her when we got back, he told her before we left."

"What the hell…?" asked Ted, his voice rising. It had been bad enough when he thought Nate had told her once they'd been back, but he hadn't even waited for that! He told her before they left! "Whose side is Nate on, here?"

"That's where it gets interesting," Durrin said. "See, he told her because they've got something going on again. Or they did…I don't know what going on now because he was really angry yesterday after everything that had happened."

Ted stared at him. He was entirely too drunk to pretend he understood this.

"Yeah," Durrin continued. "I only got a half-story version from Nate, but I guess they're seeing each other again, only they weren't telling anyone about. So, when he found out he was coming home from Russia early, he told her because he obviously wanted to see her if he was home." He shrugged. "As Nate told me, it wasn't until after he told her that he realized she might feel inclined to tell on us because that's just how Hazel can be. So, I guess he went and asked her straight out if she was going to say something. She apparently said she wouldn't. She swore she wouldn't, but then," he looked back at Ted, "yesterday comes along and the first thing out of her mouth was a threat to tell on us. That's why Nate got angry and stormed out."

"Nate told you this?" Ted asked, trying his hardest to follow along.

Durrin nodded. "When I ran into him later, that's what he said. Then he also said he was positive Hazel wasn't going say anything to Herbertson because she can't get us in trouble without getting him into trouble.

Ted hummed.

"But still" Durrin added, "I guess Nate really hated that Hazel went and decided to play some twisted game to make you and me think she was going to say something." He looked away. "That was what pissed him off the most."

"But, if she's angry with Nate now," Ted said, slowly trying to string a coherent thought together, "doesn't that mean she's more likely to tell on us?"

"As far as I know, they're still together…or whatever they're calling it," Durrin muttered. "I asked Nate the same question, but he didn't have an answer for me. He just seemed confident that she wasn't going to do it. He said she was just playing with our heads."

Ted frowned. "Why does she do that?"

Durrin shrugged as if he didn't know, but picked up his drink. "I have no idea. She likes mind games? She likes power trips? The list is endless. All I care about is not getting into trouble." He took a thoughtful pause. "Of course, if she and Nate spilt up anytime soon, we're as good a fucked. This will come back to bite us tenfold. I just hope they at least make it until I can prove how valued a researcher I am. I reckon they won't fire me if I've gone and cured some massive epidemic."

Ted laughed into his beer at that. Well, hearing all of this was very…interesting. He did have to wonder if Nate and Hazel were some sort of masochists, though. He could never in his life deal with the relationship they had, but yet Hazel and Nate were constantly going back and forth between each other. There obviously had to be something there that he didn't—or couldn't—understand. Maybe on a personal level, they both had weirdly attractive sides, but…Ted just didn't get it. He didn't understand either of them. Then again, he supposed he didn't have to. If them being together kept him out of trouble, then all the better.

"There sure are a lot of goblins in here tonight," said Stu, nudging Durrin before gesturing to the corner of the room. Ted turned to look as well, noticing that the goblins seemed to have doubled in number since he'd arrived. "You never see that many out and about usually."

"Yeah, it's weird," Durrin said before he lowered his voice. "They give me the willies."

"They'll leave you alone as long as you don't bother them," said Ted, watching as the goblins all stared in the vicinity of their direction. He had no idea what they were looking at, but sitting under their cold gazes sent a shiver up his spine.

"Hey, Ted!" yelled a voice. "Over here!"

Ted turned away from the goblins and saw Simon and several other people in their group pulling on their cloaks and gathering themselves to leave. Simon was pointing towards the door.

"We're going down the street to the next stop," he yelled. "To the Leaky. Come on."

Ted looked down at the nearly full beer that he'd just ordered. The last thing he wanted to do was waste it, but if he attempted to chug it after all he'd had to drink already, he was going to be sick. He'd never been one for chugging.

He looked back at Simon. "Tell you what. I'll meet you down there in ten minutes."

"You sure?" Simon yelled back.

"Yeah," he shouted. "It's just a short walk. I'll be there when I'm done." He gestured to his beer. "Go on ahead."

Simon shrugged to say he'd heard him and threw him a short wave before heading towards the exit. Along with everyone else in their group, they all began filing themselves out of the Dragon's Breath and back into the night.

"That the one getting married?" Durrin asked.

Ted nodded. "That's him."

"How old is he?" Durrin asked.

"Twenty," Ted said before taking a big mouthful of beer in an attempt to drink faster.

"Wow, I can't even imagine getting married at twenty," said Durrin, drumming his fingers on the bar top. "That's only a year away."

Stu laughed. "I can't imagine you getting married ever."

For whatever reason, Durrin seemed to find that just as funny as his friend did. "Oh, yeah? Why not?"

"Because you never go more than a couple months before getting bored and moving on to another girl," he said bluntly. "You've been that way since your very first girlfriend."

"That's bound to change one day, though," Durrin said. "I figure at some point I'll meet the right girl and things will work themselves out."

"Yeah, that's what they say…" Ted said as Victoire crept into his thoughts. He immediately reached down and gulped his drink again.

"I'm in no rush," Durrin said. "Seriously, what are the chances that I meet the right girl, right now, at this point in my life?"

"It's possible," Ted said in a low tone as he stared into his beer. After an entire night spent attempting to put Victoire out of his mind, in an instant, she now came flooding back. He didn't know if it was the alcohol in his system playing with his head, but he suddenly felt like a complete arsehole once he started rehashing everything that had happened. Why had he called her childish? What had he expected to come from that?

"You think?" Durrin asked, gesturing to Ted. "If that's so, answer me this. You and your girl. You and Victoire. Do you think she's the one?"

Ted looked up from his beer and met Durrin's eyes briefly, but quickly looked off. He didn't have a solid answer for that, though the idea of it all sat oddly comfortable with him; ever since they'd gotten together, being with her had always felt more natural than being without her. Together, things had just starting making more sense, as if their relationship was something that had been waiting to happen since day one. In fact, just entertaining the idea of being without her made something inside of him shift uneasily.

"Wait," said Stu, leaning around Durrin to look at Ted. "Victoire? Victoire Weasley?"

Ted nodded.

"Oh, yeah…." said Durrin, immediately looking at Stu. "I forgot about…" He pointed directly at Ted. "Yeah, he's dating Victoire." He looked back to Ted. "For awhile now, right?"

"A couple of months," Ted said slowly.

Durrin's eyes darted back to Stu, who had hummed a little. He seemed to be thinking about something.

"I know her," said Stu, looking back at Ted, "well, that's to say I knew her back in school. She's a really nice girl. You're a lucky guy."

Ted looked back into his beer, suddenly feeling more and more like an arsehole. "Yeah…I know."

"Yeah, Stu and she almost—" Durrin began, though he'd stopped speaking almost as quickly as he started. When Ted had looked up to see why, he only just caught Stu throwing Durrin a silencing glare.

Durrin backtracked. "I mean…that wasn't…I was thinking of someone else."

Stu rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Jeez, Durr…" before he stood and looked over his shoulder. "I'm going to the loo."

He hadn't waited for a response, though he'd walked off hurriedly and with a sort of purpose about him. Ted wasn't sure if he'd missed something or not, but he assumed the alcohol was making him taken an extra second to figure out why everything in that moment seemed so odd all of a sudden. What had he missed? This guy knew Victoire, and his name was Stu…

"What's his name again?" Ted asked Durrin.

"Stu."

"Stu what?"

"Reynolds." Durrin looked over his shoulder towards the loo. "I couldn't say this while he's around, but you've probably heard Elizabeth talk about him before. They hate each other. I mean, he's one of my best mates, so I obviously don't agree with her, but they cannot stand each other. Angry exes and all of that. It's a long story."

Ted's face went blank at hearing that. He'd been sitting here talking to Stuart Reynolds and hadn't even recognized him. How drunk was he? This was a kid who'd hadn't been able to stand in school thanks to his relationship with Elizabeth, and whom he detested even more when he broke Victoire's heart, and he hadn't even been able to pick him out when he was sitting just feet away from him?

He set his beer down. He'd had too much to drink.

"You can't listen to what Liz says though," Durrin added, looking as if he was watching Ted's face. "Those two have a world of personal business between them. He's really a great guy. I know I said something about him and Victoire, but that was nothing. School stuff, you know?"

Ted shrugged. "Whatever. It's in the past…" he trailed off, glancing momentarily at the large wizards beside him who had just, rather abruptly, started shouting something across the bar in the direction of the goblins.

"Yeah, exactly…" said Durrin distractedly, his eyes now also on the men beside Ted. Most of the eyes in the pub had turned in their direction once the commotion grew louder and louder. Whatever was going on, the goblins across the room were starting to edge their way closer and closer.

Ted looked back at Durrin. "What's going on—?"

"Back off you little shits!" yelled one of the burly men, pointing his wand in the direction of the goblins. "You need to back off."

"Are they seriously trying to fight goblins?" Durrin asked, taking a step back and away from the men. "Are they mental? There's about fifteen of them."

Ted followed his lead and took a step back, watching the entire display with a novel curiosity and a slight pang of fear. He'd never seen a real fight break out in a pub, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Or at least, he wasn't sure he wanted to be standing less that a couple feet away from two people who had an angry horde of goblins now glaring at them. Goblins were notorious for being merciless.

The goblins were still inching closer and closer, their black eyes all drilling into the two men at the bar. There was clearly some unfinished business going on, but these men weren't going down without a fight. It seemed they didn't understand that fighting with goblins was generally a futile effort; they always won one way or another.

Both men picked up glasses off the bar and threw them to the ground, where they shattered instantly. In the next minute, someone shot a spell off from somewhere across the room. Ted hadn't seen where the spell had come from, but the goblins didn't hesitate to rush forward upon their targets at that exact second. In the next moment, spells were firing from everywhere—ricocheting of the walls, splintering the bar top, breaking furniture. Flashes of bright lights and the sound of people screaming filled the room; some ducked under tables and others rushed out the doors. The goblins were busy attempting to restrain the men who had started this mess, though Ted never did see if they managed to actually do it.

In fact, the last thing he heard was a woman screaming before everything suddenly went black.


	35. Potions and Pain

"It's a nasty gash," said a voice. "I'll need someone to siphon the blood."

Ted slowly opened his eyes, but the blinding lights and the stark whiteness of the room around him made him shut them again. He could feel his head throbbing in his ears, and his stomach felt as though it was flipping in circles. The room was spinning around and around, but most noticeably, his hand felt like it was on fire.

"Looks like he's stirring," said another voice, though this one spurred some sense of recognition in Ted's mind. "Ted, can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes again, though everything around him was blurry and out-of-focus. It took him a moment to even realize he was lying down.

"Ted," said the familiar voice, which he was now registering as being female. "Ted, it's Elizabeth. You're at the hospital. You had an accident."

He blinked a few times before his eyes finally adjusted to the light and allowed him to settle his gaze on the two people in front of him. The one with dark hair and a pretty face he immediately realized was Elizabeth, though he had no idea who the other person was. He could only just make out it was a male and that he was wearing lime green robes.

"Ted, do me a favor," Elizabeth continued, her tone melodic and slow, as if she was talking to a child. "I need you to drink this."

A third person suddenly appeared and obscured Elizabeth from his sight. They were holding a vial of something in their hand.

"What is it?" he croaked, his voice sounding altogether unrecognizable to even him.

"Just drink," said Elizabeth, nodding to the person holding the vial.

Before he knew what was happening, someone had pushed something up against his lips and liquid was now funneling into his mouth. He almost gagged at how startled he'd been by the action, but he gulped several mouthfuls down out of reflex. Whatever it was, it tasted like sewage, peppermint, and some wretched other flavor that he couldn't ever identify.

"And what are we looking at in here?" asked another new voice, one that was very deep and commanding. "Healer Cole? Healer Peltwhistle?"

"Well, sir," said Elizabeth, her tone far more professional sounding than Ted was used to hearing it. "A nineteen year-old male with a deep laceration to the hand and wrist due to some sort of impalement with glass."

"Also," said the voice of other the male beside Elizabeth. "It looks as if there is some minimal bruising around the head due to a fall. Apparently, he'd been hit by a Stunning Spell."

"I'd been hit by what?" Ted croaked again, wondering if he had heard them right.

"Do we know exactly what happened to the hand?" asked the deep voiced man.

"Witness' accounts say that when he fell, his hand landed straight on top of several shards of broken glass. We found a large piece of glass still in his wrist when he came in."

"This is from the same pub fight as the other ones who were brought in, then?"

"Yes, sir," said the male. "Busy night at the pubs, it seems."

"The only substantial damage seems to have occurred to the artery that was lacerated," continued Elizabeth, "but we're working on fixing that right now."

"Looks like a fair evaluation," said the deep voiced man, who Ted just then noticed was wearing lime green Healer robes of his own. "And what's the procedure?"

"Stop the blood loss with a Contracting Spell, dittany to ease pain and prevent infection. Perhaps a Grafting Charm to minimize scarring," Elizabeth said matter-of-factly.

The deep voiced Healer nodded. "Good work, Cole. It sounds as if you've got all of this under control."

"Thank you, sir."

"Peltwhistle," he continued, "Cole's got this. Do me a favor and help Covalt in the next room. He's got a patient from the same incident who was apparently bludgeoned over the head with a barstool by angry group of goblins." He made a tutting sound as he turned to leave. "This is why you don't fight with goblins…"

"You got this?" asked the male Healer.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," said Elizabeth, now pointing her wand directly at Ted's hand. "He's a friend of mine." She suddenly met Ted eyes. "Fair warning, Ted. This will most definitely hurt."

"What'd you mean—?" Ted began, though a moment later he winced in agony. Whatever it was she was doing, it felt just like someone was stabbing him in the hand with a blunt knife. He could feel an intense pinching from his wrist to his palm, as though someone had reached into his hand and literally put a vice to it.

"Sorry," Elizabeth offered.

Through a clenched jaw, Ted barely managed to sputter, "Merlin's left testicle, that hurts…"

"Listen to you…" she said, her voice returning to the tone Ted was far more familiar with hearing. "You know, I never took you as the type to get into a pub fight."

"I didn't!" he said as his eyes opened wide, though the bright lights of the room immediately made him squint. "I don't even have a clue what happened!"

"I was kidding," she said, sounding distracted as she continued to make his hand feel like it was being crushed. "Anyway, Durrin said that some fight broke out between two nutters and some goblins. Then, the next thing you know, everything was chaos. He said he saw you get hit with a spell that made you collapse. When you fell, you managed to slice your hand and your wrist open." She looked up at him. "Your entire left arm was soaked in blood when he brought you in here."

"When who brought me in here?"

"Durrin," she said, tapping her wand to his hand and finally alleviating the vice-like pressure on his hand and wrist. "Good thing too, because you nicked this one artery in your wrist which made you lose a lot of blood. You needed proper treatment. Had you just stayed there black out on the floor amidst all that madness, who knows what would have happened."

"I wouldn't have…" He stopped and looked at her. "I mean, nothing seriously bad would have happened, right?"

She took a deep breath. "Honestly, any time you cut an artery, bad thing can happen. If you had gone long without a treatment spell, you technically could have," she hesitated, "well, it wasn't likely in this case, but it could possibly have been fatal. I think the worst thing you were looking at was a loss of function in your hand."

Ted's eyes went wide as he let his gaze settle onto his left arm. His hand and wrist had a gash jetting down the center, which looked almost like someone had actually taken a knife to cut him open with. By the looks of the discarded bloody cotton swabs, towels, and shards of glass that were lying about, there had been quite a bit of blood.

"How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asked as her wand remained steadily aimed at his hand.

"My hand hurts," he said obviously

She laughed a little. "Other than that. I meant are you light-headed, dizzy, feeling any sort of nausea?"

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "All of the above. But I was pretty drunk earlier, so I was all of those things before I got hurt." He reopened his eyes. "In fact, I can't believe I don't feel more drunk right now."

"You don't even want to know how many potions you were given before you were roused from that Stunning Spell," she said, reaching for a small, brown vial that lay on a nearby counter. "One of which I'm sure, by default, helped to sober you up." She held up the brown vial. "This is dittany. It will help alleviate the pain and reduce scarring."

"I know what dittany does," he muttered. "I make the stuff."

Elizabeth stopped what she was doing and arched her eyebrow at him, a large cotton swab in one hand and the vial of dittany in the other. "I'm aware of that, but I'm in training, Ted. It's sort of second nature for me to just say these things and treat you like any normal patient." She touched the swab to his hand. "Though, I'll cut you some slack since you've nearly had you hand chopped in half. I suppose I'd probably be a bit cranky, myself."

Ted winced again as a stinging sensation completely engulfed his hand and wrist. If his hand had felt like it was one fire before, it was nothing compared to the burning sensation that running through it now. Through blurry, squinted eyes, he watched the wound began to slowly start to heal itself; a strange grey matter covering the open sore. Knowing what he knew about dittany, it would only take a few hours for the sore to look practically healed.

Elizabeth pulled off one of the rubber gloves she'd been wearing and grabbed her wand. She pushed herself on a rolling stool over to a nearby cupboard to grab at something before pushing herself back. From a box, she pulled out a roll of cloth bandages and raised her wand to begin wrapping his hand.

"I don't need it wrapped," he said.

"Until the dittany takes full effect, you'll need to protect it from—"

She stopped speaking when Ted immediately morphed his injury away; a perfectly clean, clear piece of skin remaining in its place. Now that the healing process was complete and the blood loss stopped, he could as good as hide his injury and act as if it never happened. It was one of the many perks of being what he was.

He wiggled his fingers a few times to test the elasticity of his skin, but inhaled sharply when a small sharp pain shot through his hand. Clearly, he could hide his injury all he wanted, but that certainly wasn't going to make it go away.

"Well," she said blankly. "Not all of us have that luxury. You couldn't have just done that before you bled all over the place?"

"Morphing it away just hides it," he said as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "It doesn't make it disappear. I could bleed to death if I…" He trailed off, having forgotten where he was going with that point.

"Just do me a favor and rest your arm for the next couple of days," she said, giving his hand one last inspection before she used her wand to put the bandage back in the cupboard she'd retrieved them from. "And do yourself a favor and stop getting in the way of pub fights."

He made a noncommittal noise.

"You must have been pretty drunk if you couldn't manage to duck out of the way when wayward spells were flying about," said Elizabeth, pushing her rolling stool away from where Ted lay to begin cleaning up after herself.

"My reflexes are downright pitiful when I'm drunk," Ted mumbled. "Not to mention, I'm always banging myself up. Every time I get really pissed, there's always some sort of weird injury I end up with where I can't remember how I got it." He glanced at his hand. "This being the worst."

"You're just lucky it wasn't worse," she said, pulling her other glove off and tossing it into a nearby rubbish bin. "Falling into a pile of broken glass could easily result in far more permanent injury."

Ted arched his back and tried to stretch some of the stiffness out of his legs and arms. Whatever potions they had given him, they were having all sorts of weird effects on him. He could physically feel himself sobering and regaining strength, but he also felt heavy waves of exhaustion overcoming him. His eyes felt droopy and dry, his mouth felt as though it was stuffed full of cotton, every part of him ached or throbbed. What a perfectly fitting end to a shitty couple of days.

"Good news is, you'll be able to go home," said Elizabeth, who was now writing something down in a magenta folder across the room. "You'll be a little weak for the next couple of hours, but a few hours of sleep to let those potions do their jobs should do the trick." She looked back at him. "At least you don't have to stay here overnight for observation."

"That's the best news I've heard in ages."

"You'll probably feel slightly disoriented," she continued, checking over the folder. "It's like a drunk feeling, but not really. That'll wear in a few hours once the potions take."

Ted nodded. That was a sensation he was feeling all too well at the moment.

"Now, are you working tomorrow?" she asked, glancing up from her folder. "Because if you are, you need to make sure you get yourself some Strength Replenishing Serum to take at least once. If you're not, we can send you home with some."

Ted shook his head slowly. "I'm not. I have a wedding to go to. I won't be here."

Elizabeth nodded as she continued scribbling something in her folder. "Whose wedding? Anyone I know?"

"Uhh…" He stat up from his lying position and stretched his back. "Simon Reed. You know him?"

She stopped scribbling for a second and looked as if she was considering the name in her head to match a face to it. "It sounds so familiar." She shook her head and returned to scribbling. "These days I can barely remember my own name, though."

"He's a friend of mine," Ted said, blinking several times. Why was it so bright in here?

"Are you taking Victoire?" she asked, snapping the folder shut. "Speaking of whom, I bet she'll be keen to hear about your night. I take it she wasn't out with you?"

Ted cleared his throat awkwardly and looked at the floor. With all that had happened he'd almost forgotten everything else going on. "Well, I was supposed to. I don't know now."

"Why not?"

He took a deep breath and coughed. "We got in an argument."

"Uh-oh," she said in a playful tone, though her face turned a little more serious when he didn't react. "What happened?"

He didn't answer her, but he had a feeling his face answered her question better than words could.

"Uh-oh," she repeated. "What'd you do?"

"Something dumb."

"Like?"

"I just didn't handle something as well as I could have," he said before he tried to stand and steady himself against the bed.

"You'd be a traitor to men everywhere if you actually did," she joked, smiling as she crossed her arms across her chest. "But now that you know you screwed up, have you decided to go and be a big boy and apologize?"

"I sent her flowers," he offered.

She laughed as she placed the folder down on the counter. "Well, it's a start. Go on and use your injury to your advantage. Maybe if you tell her that you almost died, she'll forgive you quicker."

He shrugged. "I don't know. She was pretty mad. I mean, it's her birthday, so—"

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "Wait. It's her birthday? You got in a fight with her on her birthday?"

"No, the fight happened _yesterday_," Ted corrected, emphasizing the point as if it mattered.

She gawked at him. "But you've talked to her since, right?"

He looked down at his hand.

"Ted…"

"It's a really long story…"

"Long story or not, that's a shit excuse," she said. "You need to talk to her. She'll want to know about this. You need to go and see her on her bloody birthday."

"I wanted to, she just…" He reached up and rubbed his eyes. "She said she didn't want to see me."

"What did you _do_?"

"It's a long story," Ted muttered, holding on to the side of the bed to keep his knees from buckling. He barely had the energy to stand, let alone recount the details of their fight to a third party.

"Ted," said Elizabeth, her tone growing serious. "I swear to you, if you tell me something like you cheated on her, I will make things hurt ten times worse than what you just felt in your hand."

"No!" Ted said, staring at her as if she was mental. "It was nothing like that. We just had a little argument about something and she got upset with me and…" He trailed off, his thoughts now swimming together into one jumbled mess that were making less and less sense. "She didn't want to see me today."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "If it was a little argument like you say, then she didn't mean that."

"Yeah, well, she sounded like she meant it."

"Ted, I saw the way she was looking at you the other day," said Elizabeth, now taking a step towards the door, "and you would've had to seriously buggered up for her to be mad enough to ban seeing you." She looked him in the eyes. "And I like to think I know you that much, Ted. You're not capable of fucking up _that_ badly. You don't have it in you."

"What the hell am I supposed to do, then?" he asked, giving up on standing and instead sitting himself back down on the bed.

"Go talk to her."

"It's practically midnight," he mumbled. "I'm on who knows how many potions that are making me feel loopy, let alone I can barely stand up. I physically and mentally don't have it in me to put myself through talking to her if she doesn't want to see me—"

"Look, I'll just say this," Elizabeth said as she hovered in the exit of the doorway. "As a Healer, I'll tell you that you really do need to get home and get some rest. You've lost a lot of blood and you really shouldn't be overexerting yourself. Plus the faster you get some sleep, the more effective those potions will be."

He started at her.

"However, as your _friend _the Healer," she continued. "I'll tell you that in fifteen minutes time, once that Sedative Potion wears, you'll be sound enough to walk properly again. You'll be able to Apparate and function, albeit a little weakly." Her eyes narrowed on him. "You'll be able to go and talk to your girlfriend on her birthday if you stop being stubborn."

Ted looked away from her. He didn't need to hear this.

"Get some rest, okay?" she said before she rapped on the side of the door frame. "Take care of your hand."

"Yeah," he said, morphing it back to look at the healing gash mark that resided there. "I guess I have you to thank for fixing it."

She smiled a little. "Well, by the looks of things, you might need it more than you know if you and Victoire don't work things out. You can consider it me saving your social life."

Ted forced a wry smile that made Elizabeth laugh, though with a quick wave, she turned to disappear back out into the hallway. He groaned as he looked down at his hand again. The ugly grey matter that was covering his wound was working itself towards healing things, which made everything from his fingertips to his wrist tingle. It was an odd feeling, though it felt far more comfortable than the pain he'd been incurring earlier. There was definitely going to be a nasty scar there. Not that it mattered; he'd just morph it away.

"Hey," said someone who had knocked on the open door.

Ted looked up and saw Durrin standing there, his robes spotted with blood all along his right side. He looked as if he'd stabbed someone.

"Hey," said Ted, sitting himself up a little straight. "Is that mine?" He pointed to the blood.

"Yeah, I hope you don't want it back," Durrin joked, glancing down at his robes. "How you feeling?"

He shrugged.

Durrin nodded. "Liz said you'd be okay, which is good. You took a nasty little fall. Then there was the blood…" He made a face.

"I don't remember any of it," Ted said. "It's all one big blur."

"It was madness," Durrin said. "I saw you go down, and at first I thought you ducked, but then you were just lying there. When I crouched down to inspect you, that's when I saw the blood start to pour out of your arm and figured you needed to get out of there."

"You Apparated me here?" asked Ted.

"Had to," he said. "You were gushing blood, unconscious, and about ten seconds from being trampled by a group of angry goblins."

Ted looked away, still feeling quite disoriented, but there was a small sense of control about him that hadn't been there moments before. At this point, he just wanted the potion to take its full effect so he could put all of this weirdness behind him. "Someone really needs to work it out so these potions takes effect faster."

"Maybe I'll make that my area of research focus," Durrin joked, stepping forward to check out Ted's hand for himself. "That looks painful."

Ted nodded a little, but glanced back at Durrin as he stood there examining his hand. He swallowed hard, which only reminded him of the foul tasting sewage potion he'd had to taken earlier. "By the way, I really appreciate everything you did tonight. I don't know what exactly what would have happened had you not been there."

Durrin shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal."

"But still," Ted said, nodding sincerely. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," he said, shrugging again as if it wasn't an issue. "So, when can you get out of this place?"

"As soon as some Sedative Potion wears off," he muttered, checking the clock and noting that it was eleven-thirty. "Should be soon."

Durrin nodded. "Well, I just wanted to check and make sure you were still alive and kicking. Take it easy, okay?" He took a few steps towards the door. "Just go home and get some rest."

"I don't think I can do much else right now," Ted said, mustering a weak smile.

Durrin laughed before turned to step out into the hallway.

"Hey, Durrin."

He stopped and looked back, his hair falling into his eyes as he did so.

"Seriously. Thanks."

Durrin shrugged and smiled. "That's the last time you get to thank me before I start telling you to shut up." He threw up a quick wave and stepped out of sight, disappearing back out into the hallway.

Ted sighed looked back down at the bed he was sitting on. He stretched his legs in front of him before rotating his feet at the ankles a few times. He braced himself with his hands and pulled himself up into a standing position. His legs felt stronger than they had minutes ago, as if they could actually support his weight this time. The Sedative Potion was wearing; that meant he'd soon be able to Apparate back home.

He sat back down on the bed to wait it out a few more minutes, and looked back down at his hand, which still felt achy and sensitive. It was already starting to scab over and heal after just a short while, but it looked particularly unpleasant the longer he stared at it. He took his finger and started to poke at it.

_What a night_, he thought. It was almost absurd to think of what he'd gotten into. It sounded like someone else's life; certainly not his. This sort of thing didn't happen to him. He was the guy who stayed out of trouble, especially the kind of trouble that put people into the hospital. He was supposed to be boring. He liked being boring…

He inhaled sharply as he poked his wrist in a tender spot that he probably shouldn't have been touching. He had to wonder what would have happened had he not had as much to drink as he had. Would he have been able to get out of the way of that Stunning Spell? Why hadn't he just gone with Simon when he'd left the pub in the first place? This would have never had he just left with him. What if he had just not come out at all…?

He stopped at that thought, realizing that he could 'what if" this to death if he really wanted to. Still, it definitely was saying something when all of this had happened when it easily could not have. That was life though, wasn't it? Everything occurred because of the choices a person makes.

Ted morphed his hand back and let his head drop lazily into his good hand. He knew it was a long shot, but something a lot worse could have happened tonight. Who knew what kind of spells were flying around that pub; just one miscast spell was all it took. One miscast spell could have changed a whole lot of lives.

On that note, his thoughts drifted off to his grandmother, Harry and Ginny, James, Albus, Lily, and lastly to Victoire. What if something had happened? If something terrible had overcome him, he would have gone out of this world purposely avoiding her over something so ridiculously stupid; something so trivial. Not to mention that through this whole ordeal, he didn't even know if Victoire would have even care about what had happened to him. Maybe she'd think he deserved it. Maybe she'd think it was retribution…

No. He shook his head. He knew her better than that. The potions in his system were making him paranoid. She would definitely care. She would want to know. Elizabeth was right about that much… Though, if she was right about that, then maybe she was right about him needed to go and talk to her. He had said he wasn't going to, but sitting here now, his hand hurting, his body feeling as though fifteen different things were happening to it, and his head reeling, he wanted to see her. He _really_ wanted to see her. When it came down to it, he didn't want to be alone right now. He especially didn't want to be alone knowing that the one person he cared about more than anything didn't even want anything to do with him. That just made him feel worse.

With a heavy breath, he stood up again, his legs not feeling particularly sturdy, but they were solid enough. He still felt light headed and completely dazed, but he'd be able to make it home…

Or not home.


	36. Pebbles on the Roof

Alone in her room, Victoire stretched her legs out on her bed and rested her head lazily on her pillow. With an issue of _Young Witches_ magazine propped up above her, she flipped idly through the pages as she waited for Whit to return from her shower.

She wasn't even sure why she still read this magazine anymore, seeing as she'd clearly outgrown most of the style tips and juvenile ideas for fun. Even the boys whose pictures covered the pages weren't nearly as cute as she remembered them being a few years ago. Then again, that was probably because most of them seemed a lot younger than they used to be—or rather, she was a lot older and they were staying the same age. She had to remind herself that she wasn't exactly a young witch anymore. At eighteen, perhaps she should move onto more adult geared magazines with more mature themes. She'd have to remember that when her subscription to this ran out and the time came to pick something new.

With a bored sigh, she continued flipping through the issue, watching as colorful photo after photo of smiling, happy teenagers passed her by. She glazed over articles entitled, "_How to Score that Perfect Smile_!" and "_Which Boy is your Perfect Match!_" only to stop finally on the magazine's featured article—an interview the Nymph Chasers. Casually, she began to read over the article, where pictures of long haired wizards with guitars jumped around on stage for the viewing pleasure of a packed audience filled the pages. There was a small information box off to the side declaring the band's likes and dislikes, their favorite songs, and a list of their musical influences, including the Hob Goblins, the Helgapuffs, and the Weird Sisters.

She scanned the article for its finer points before noticing a small blinking decal claiming a free poster of the band in every issue. Free poster? She hadn't seen a free poster. Her expression grew curious as she flipped to the back of the magazine, only to find nothing there. She turned the magazine upside down and shook it, knowing that if there were a poster somewhere in there, it would find its way out. When nothing fell, she began to feel like she'd gotten a faulty issue.

"What the…?" she said, sitting herself up straight and forcing a random page to fall open across her lap. It was then that a perforated edge—the sort that had clearly had something torn from it—became apparent. Victoire ran her finger along the jagged, torn piece of paper, inspecting it for a quick moment. Someone had taken her poster.

She immediately looked up to her open doorway. "Nicki!"

"What?" called Dominique from somewhere down the hall.

"Come here!"

There was a long pause before the sound of movement and footsteps followed. A moment later, Dominique appeared in the doorway and propped herself against its frame. "What?"

Victoire held up her magazine. "You didn't happen to get to my magazine first, did you?"

Dominique's face immediately looked as if she knew where this was going, though she attempted to play it off as if she didn't have a clue. "Uh, I think I may have looked through it. I don't really remember."

Victoire pulled the pages back to reveal the perforated edge from where the poster had been torn. "Just looked?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dominique said, turning swiftly on the spot and speeding off back down the hallway.

"You can't just take my stuff and expect me not to notice!" Victoire called after her.

There was no answer, but she hadn't expected one since Dominique was the queen of denial. In truth, Victoire didn't even want the poster, but it was more the principle of the matter. Had she wanted it, her sister would have just pinched it from her and hoped she wouldn't notice. She couldn't have that. She really should do something about it…but she was in no mood to argue at the moment. What was the point really?

She tossed her magazine to the floor and plopped back down onto her pillow with a soft thud. From nearby, she could hear the sound of the shower water being shut off, followed by the sounds of a shower curtain being pulled back. Whit would be out in the minute or two; just in time to help her ring out the last—she checked the clock on her bedside table—twenty-three minutes of her birthday.

By all accounts, her birthday had actually been quite lovely. Once she put breakfast behind her, she had waited for Whit to arrive so that they, along with her mother, could spend the day out and about. They had ventured to Hogsmeade for most of the day, where her mother had let her pick out various small gifts here and there, including stationary, some earrings, candy, and a few books. They had then gone to Diagon Alley so her mother could run some quick errands and pick up all the necessary items that were still needed for that night's dinner. When her mother had set off to do just that, Victoire and Whit had gone off on their own to window shop and enjoy what was left of the afternoon.

All in all, she'd kept herself good and busy most of the day. Upon returning home, she'd enjoyed a lovely dinner and the most wonderful chocolate soufflé in the world. Whit had readily agreed to stay the night, even after only hearing the briefest of descriptions about what had happened the day before with Ted—as much as Victoire was willing to recount—and the girls had since been spending the evening talking and hanging out in her room.

That had been that; her day from start to finish.

Lazily, she reached up and stretched her arms above her head, letting them fall lamely on the pillow and behind her. As she waited for Whit, she glanced out the window that sat beside her bed and watched as the large tree that stood just beyond her house swayed gently in the moonlight; its branches looking as if they were shaking off the cold just as she would had she been stuck outside. Beyond that, she could just make out how the sea's waters were calm and tranquil tonight. Everything seemed almost frozen.

She refocused her attention back on her room, lifting her eyes upwards towards the ceiling. Immediately, she spotted a small black spot that held more memories than she was willing to admit at the moment. That stupid spot…

She closed her eyes, but thoughts of Ted were already materializing before she knew better. She'd be lying if she said that whenever her mind had found an inactive second that day, she didn't think of him. Without fail, all day, the second she let her mind lull, there he was creeping into her thoughts.

Still, she had to admit, even with him finding his way into her head time and time again, she felt as though she'd been very good about keeping those thoughts to herself all day. She hadn't bothered anyone by droning on incessantly about what had happened, and she had in fact only even told Whit a small summary of what had happened yesterday. Even when Whit had pressed for more details, Victoire had more or less shrugged it off and changed the subject. As much as she wanted to talk about things, she didn't want to complain or mope or say things she may regret later on. If she'd learned one thing from her former friendship with Colleen Lynch, it was that once you told people things you may not necessarily mean—having said them only because you were mad—you can't take them back. People don't forget.

It had been one of Colleen's horrible habits—dating boys who would do something to set her off, and her turning around and spilling every horrible detail or secret about that boy to her friends out of anger. She would always go on to forgive the boy the next day, but Victoire had always wondered how she was supposed to suddenly forget all of those embarrassing stories of small penises, funny smells, and worthless lays that Colleen had told them about. Colleen may have forgotten, but Victoire never could; she couldn't even look at some of these people the same way as before, knowing now what she knew. It had been something that had taught her one very valuable lesson: Watch what you say about other people out of anger.

It was for this very reason that she had chosen to barely mention Ted today, but that wasn't to say she wasn't constantly thinking about him. Every time he popped into her head, a different emotion would surface. Sometimes, she'd be angry, though not nearly as much as the day before. Other times, she'd feel pangs of hurt, but again, not as bad as yesterday. It seemed that as time passed, the anger and the hurt were subsiding significantly, only to make room for the unanswered questions that were now looming over her.

What happened next? What happened when she saw him again? What was supposed to happen? What did she expect? Tomorrow was Simon's wedding and, at this point, was she even still going? Technically, she wasn't even invited. She'd been invited through Ted. What was she supposed to do about that?

She opened her eyes for half of a second, only to immediately shut them again. In the end—after she'd analyzed and reanalyzed, and then reanalyzed _again_ how she felt—the only thing she had found herself truly surprised by was Ted having actually listening to her . He had heeded her request and stayed away; he'd taken her seriously. She wasn't necessarily hurt by this since she told him not to come, though she was certainly something. She couldn't pinpoint exactly how she felt about it; confusion seemed to sum things up best, though the word didn't quite grasp the situation like she wanted.

She couldn't lie to herself—a large part of her had wanted Ted to come by today; another part of her didn't know how she would have reacted if he did. She didn't know whether she should still be mad or whether she should just let bygones be bygones for the sake of making things better and moving on. She knew she didn't feel quite so angry anymore, but something inside her was telling her not to drop things so easily; something was telling her she should still be mad. But no matter how much that little voice in her head kept telling her should be mad, it didn't change the fact that she wasn't really mad. It didn't change that the only real emotion she felt at the moment was complete and utter uncertainty.

"Well," said Whit, reentering the room in her robe with a towel wrapped around her head. "It needs to be said that I really like the soap you have in there. It smells fantastic."

Victoire opened her eyes and looked at her. "We aim to please."

"I'm starting to figure out all your secrets," Whit joked, smiling as she pulled the towel off her head. "You'd better watch out."

Victoire mustered a small smile and rolled over onto her stomach, watching as Whit set about using her wand to dry her hair. It took her less than a minute to dry her pin straight hair, though it took her even less time to notice Victoire's vacant stare in her direction.

"What's up?" Whit asked once she lowered her wand.

"What do you mean?"

"You're just staring into space," she said before she sat down on the nearby camp bed that had been set up for her.

Victoire groaned a little before burying her face into her pillow.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't look up, but shook her head.

"It might help."

"What's there to say?" Victoire asked, picking her head up to look at her. "I have no idea what's going on, I haven't heard from him all day, and I think I might be going a little mad over it all. And by a little, I mean a lot."

"You have to heard from him," Whit said, pointing towards the door. "Those flowers he sent you count as hearing from him."

"Okay, so I've heard from some flowers he's sent," Victoire muttered, "I still haven't heard from _him_. But why do I even care? He's probably out right now getting piss drunk and doing who knows what, and he probably doesn't have a damn care in the world. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here driving myself mad thinking about…" She trailed off and plopped her face back down into her pillow. She wasn't going to talk about this anymore.

"Vic…" said Whit, her tone somewhat consoling. "I don't know Ted as well as you do, but I really doubt it's that black and white. He doesn't seem like the type to just brush this sort of thing under the rug without a second thought."

Victoire made a noncommittal noise for lack of anything better to say. Sure, Whit was probably right, or rather, she hoped she was right, but she wasn't about to go admitting that at moment.

"What are you going to do about Simon's wedding tomorrow?" Whit asked.

Victoire shrugged and flipped over onto her back. "I don't know. I mean, I want to go, but…I don't know."

Whit nodded and casually reached down to grab at the magazine Victoire had discarded earlier. She opened it to somewhere in the middle and looked as if she was simply flipping through the pages for something to do rather than actually reading any of it.

Victoire groaned. "I hate this feeling."

"I know."

"I want to talk to him, but at the same time, if I see him right now, I think I might curse him."

Whit laughed a little, just as the sound of knocking at the door pulled both of their attentions away from the topic at hand. Without waiting to be invited in, the knob turned and Dominique appeared with a large piece of paper in her hand.

"Here," Dominique said, walking over to where Victoire was to hand her the paper she'd brought in with her. "Happy birthday. Don't say I don't ever get you anything."

Victoire hesitated taking it from her right away, though when she finally did, she didn't quite understanding what her sister was giving her. It only took a quick inspection of the gift to realize that Dominique was merely returning her free magazine poster to her.

"You're giving what was originally mine back to me?" Victoire asked. "As a present…"

Dominique smiled and nodded. "And look, I even drew a moustache on the drummer for you since I know you don't like him."

She looked down at the poster, noticing that the drummer did, in fact, now have a poorly drawn moustache over his face. He didn't look at all happy for it.

"Well, thanks," Victoire said slowly, "but I don't have a problem with the drummer."

Dominique's expression turned curious. "Yes, you do. You're always saying how much he annoys you, and how he'll never be as good as their original drummer."

"No, I've never said that," Victoire said, shaking her head. "I've got no issue with the new guy. But tell you what, you go ahead and keep this." She handed the poster back. "You've gone and made it your own anyway."

"What do you mean you've never said that?" Dominique asked, though she didn't hesitate to take the poster back. "I know you've said that."

"Wasn't me," Victoire said. "You're thinking of someone else."

"Who else would I be thinking of?" Dominique asked, looking as if she was thinking out loud rather than actually addressing anyone specifically. "I could have sworn it was…" She suddenly stopped, as if something dawned on her. "Oh, never mind, I know who said it."

"Not me," Victoire said with a smile.

"No, it wasn't," Dominique said, waving her hand dismissively. "It was something Sarah had mentioned awhile ago. I don't know how I confused you with her."

At the mention of Sarah's name, Victoire took the opportunity to stare down her sister. "Speaking of Sarah, what's going on there? You plan on talking to her anytime soon?"

Dominique frowned. "Maybe. Eventually. I'm in no rush."

"So, you'll forgive Louis and not her?" Victoire asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I have no real choice but to tolerate Louis," she said, her face growing bored. "I'm sort of stuck with him. Sarah…" She shrugged.

Victoire rolled her eyes, making no attempt to hide this from her sister.

"Oh, stop acting like you'd be any better," Dominique countered. "You and Ted had that one fight back in school and you stopped speaking for like a year."

"Longer than that," offered Whit.

"Exactly," Dominique said, gesturing to Whit. "You're going to sit here and give me grief when you're just as stubborn as I am?"

"You can go now," Victoire muttered.

"And I'd also bet," Dominique added, "that whatever the reason Ted sent half the flowers in the country to our house this morning is something that you're _still_ being stubborn about."

"It is my birthday," Victoire said, not looking her sister and wishing she would altogether drop the issue. "People get flowers for their birthdays all the time."

"Yes, but those people don't usually look like they want to chuck them in the rubbish bin," Dominique said pointedly, "especially when they're from their boyfriend. Which, funnily enough, is the very same boyfriend who you usually spend every free second with, but yet, is nowhere to be found on your birthday."

Victoire's exhaled deeply.

"Now, my question is," Dominique continued, "did Ted actually do something wrong, or are you overreacting to something insignificant like you always do?"

"I didn't overreact," Victoire said matter-of-factly.

"I really can't fault her for being upset," said Whit.

"What happened, then?" she asked. "I mean, this is Ted we're talking about. He's only capable of doing so much."

Victoire bit her tongue.

"Let's see," Dominique said, mocking thoughtful introspection. "Did he sleep with someone else?"

"No!" said Whit and Victoire in unison, though Whit quickly added, "no, nothing like that. He just made a mistake and they got into an argument over it."

"Yes, but what kind of mistake?" Dominique asked. "There are different kinds of—"

"He went and planned Simon's stag night for tonight without realizing it and waited until the last possible second to tell me," Victoire said finally. "He planned it for tonight, and when I got upset, he went and called me childish. We ended up getting into a row over it. That's it. That's all there is to it." She looked at Whit. "Now that being said, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"

"Okay," Whit said, looking as if she was more than willing to change the subject. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else."

Dominique stared at them both for a second, though she looked as if she wanted to laugh. "Fine," she turned to Whit. "So, I forgot to tell you that I ran into Jack earlier today."

"Anything else, but _that_…" Victoire said, wondering where on earth her sister came from. It was as if she had a sensor to simply address every issue that people were bothered by and then throw it back in their faces.

"What?" Dominique asked. "We can't talk about him, either? We can't talk about Ted, we can't talk about Jack, who can we talk about?"

"Anyone else," said Victoire simply.

Dominique ignored her and turned back to Whit. "I thought you and Jack were still friends?"

"We are…were…sort of. He got mad because of," she made an obvious face, "what you said I'd said about Kenley and him."

"What'd I say about Kenley and him?" Dominique asked, looking confused.

"You don't even remember?" Victoire asked. "In the common room? After the Ravenclaw match? You went and said Whit suspected something was going on between those two, and that's why they broke up. You announced it for the entire castle to hear. "

"Ohhhh," Dominique said, sounding as if she'd remembered. "Right, I did say that." She looked back at Whit. "He got mad at you for that?"

Victoire rolled her eyes.

"He wasn't happy," said Whit.

"Have you talked to him?"

Whit shrugged. "Well, no, but…"

"You both," Dominique pointed between Victoire and Whit, "are so strange. It's as if avoiding these boys and sitting on everything is easier to deal with than actually talking to them."

"You're really one to talk," Victoire muttered.

"I've never said I wasn't strange," Dominique countered. "At least I admit it." She looked at Whit. "For the record, Jack doesn't care and he's not mad. Not even a little bit. Come on, you dated the boy for almost a year. You know he's not even capable of holding a proper grudge. He's the most easy-going person in the universe."

Whit looked down at her hands.

"Oh, and also," she added, "he and Kenley don't have anything going on. But then again, who really even pegged Jack as being the player type?"

"Well, she was obviously always flirting with him," said Victoire. "She gave off the distinct impression that she fancied him."

"She probably does," Dominique said. "But, she also fancies half the Slytherin Quidditch team, she's practically in love with Mike Flack out of Hufflepuff, and Henry's told me she'd come flirting around him and his friends countless time. The girl obviously likes boys. A little too much, if you ask me…"

"It still doesn't make it right—"

A strange clicking noise from somewhere in the room made Victoire stop speaking. For a brief second, she had thought she was imagining things, but both Dominique and Whit's faces looked as if they'd heard it too.

"You heard that?" Victoire asked, sitting up straighter.

Both Dominique and Whit nodded, though Dominique added, "What was it?"

Victoire looked around, but noticed nothing out of place or out of the ordinary. "Perhaps it was just—"

She heard it again, though this time, it came from behind her—from the window. It had sounded like something small and hard had hit it. She immediately pulled herself up onto her knees and turned to look outside.

"It's probably just ice falling from the roof," Whit suggested.

"What ice?" Dominique asked, climbing upon the bed to stare out the window with Victoire. "There is no ice."

With Dominique beside her, Victoire stared out into the darkness, but saw nothing out of the ordinary out there. Only the tree, the sea, and the roof awning that lay right below her window. It all seemed completely normal.

"I don't see anything," Victoire said, giving the layout one last sweep with her eyes before turning back to Whit.

"It's probably nothing," said Whit. "It's windy out tonight, so things are probably being kicked up off the ground."

Victoire shrugged, as if to agree, and turned herself back around to face away from the window. "You know what I'm in the mood for?"

"What?"

She smiled and pulled herself off the bed. "Let's go and see what's left of my chocolate soufflé downstairs."

"I doubt there's anything left," Dominique said, finally turning away from the window herself. "I saw Louis digging into it as I was coming upstairs earlier. You know he will have inhaled the rest of it."

"Ug, if he ate the rest of my—"

The clinking sound repeated itself.

"Something definitely hit the window," Whit said, pointing at the glass. "I saw it."

"I thought I saw something, too," said Dominique, "but just barely." She reached up to open the window.

"What are you doing!?" Victoire asked, taking a step back. "It's freezing outside! Plus, who knows what that is! Maybe Whit's right and it is ice. If you open the window, it could come crashing down on your head."

"It'll just be for a second," Dominique said, unlatching the latch and reaching down to tug at the bottom of the window. "And it's not ice."

Victoire pulled a disgruntled face as she walked over to pull her robe on over her pajamas and shield herself from the cold that was inevitably seconds away from invading her room. Whit followed suit and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, just as Dominique heaved the window open with a small grunt. Almost instantly, the cold sea air brushed Dominique's hair back as she stuck her head partially out the window.

"Do you see anything?" asked Whit, pulling herself off her own bed and onto Victoire's to take the spot next to Dominique.

"There's this," said Dominique, reaching herself half out the window to lean against the roof awning. When she pulled herself back in, she was holding a small pebble. "It's sitting here on the roof."

"Is that a rock?" Victoire asked.

"Yeah, a very small—" Dominique stopped. Both she and Whit had turned to look out the window at the exact same time.

"A very small what?" Victoire asked. "Do you see something?"

"You didn't hear that?" Whit asked without turning away from the window.

"I heard it," Dominique said as she once against pushed her head through the window. "It was a voice."

"Definitely a voice," Whit agreed.

Instantly, a creepy sense of panic ran through Victoire. Was something out there? Was someone watching them?

"What kind of voice—?"

"Hello!" yelled Dominique. "Who goes there!?"

"Nicki!" Victoire snapped, reaching forward to grab the back of her jumper and reel her back inside. "Stop it! What is wrong with you?!"

Dominique laughed as she poked her head back inside of the room. "Well, it's rude to ignore them."

"It could be some strange nutter!"

"A strange nutter is just a friend you haven't made yet," Dominique joked, looking back out the window.

"I'm going to go and tell Dad," said Victoire, turning immediately towards the door.

"I wouldn't do that," Whit said before she pulled herself onto her knees and squinted into the darkness. She looked as if she was trying to get a better look at something. "Look." She pointed. "Just there."

Dominique followed her finger, but was soon laughing once again. "Well, you were right about one thing, Vic. It is a strange nutter."

"It's Ted," Whit said, turning to look back at Victoire.

Something inside Victoire gave a start. While she was thrilled that it wasn't some strange pervy, creep crawling about in the garden, the fact that it was Ted brought out an entirely different form of anxiety in her.

"Hey, Lupin!" yelled Dominique. "Why are you messing about like a prowler? Have you forgotten we have a front door!?"

Victoire crossed her arms across her chest and hung back by the door. "What's he want?"

"I'm going to go ahead and take a wild guess," Dominique said, turning back to her sister, "and say he probably wants to see you."

"But why is he out there throwing pebbles at my window?"

"Why don't you come and ask him?" Dominique asked, gesturing for her to join them at the window.

Victoire didn't move. In fact, she almost felt rooted to the spot where she was standing, as if some force was holding her there. She bounced nervously on the balls of her feet before averting her eyes to anywhere but the window. What on earth was Ted doing? He'd never once resorted to anything like this before. What possessed him to throw stones at her window in the middle of the night?

"Vic?" asked Whit. "Are you—?" She pointed outside.

"Ask him what he wants," Victoire said, still not budging.

Dominique rolled her eyes, but stuck her head back out the window. "She wants to know what you want!"

Victoire couldn't hear anything but the wind, though both Whit and Dominique looked as if they were listening intently to something that was being said. After a few seconds, Whit rounded back on her.

"He wants to talk to you," she said. "Said he would have rung the bell, but he was afraid of getting yelled at for coming around so late."

"Right, because getting caught at throwing rocks at the window this late is _much better_," said Dominique, laughing. "You know, I think he might be drunk."

_Of course._ That's exactly what it was, Victoire realized. He was drunk. He'd probably had too much to drink, got to thinking about things, and decided to come around while he was off-his-head inebriated to tell her something that probably won't make any sense anyway. Bloody fantastic…

Whit stood up from the bed. "Vic, go and talk to him. Go and see what he has to say."

Victoire made a face. "I don't want to talk to him if he's pissed. What is that going to do?"

"You can yell at him and he probably won't remember tomorrow," suggested Dominique.

"Or…" Whit said, butting in immediately. "You can just go and talk to him."

"But—"

"Just go see what he wants," said Whit.

Victoire frowned and looked towards her now open bedroom door. If Ted was drunk enough to stand outside her window throwing pebbles, who knew what he might do if she didn't talk to him. The last thing she needed was him to somehow get her parents' attention and for them to see him like this.

She glanced back at the window. If she was going to do this, she certainly wasn't doing it here. She was going to have to go downstairs.

"Fine, I'm going," Victoire said quietly, turning on the spot, but hesitating briefly. She wheeled back around and gestured to the still open window. "Shut it."

"But then we won't be able to hear you," said Dominique.

"I'll do it," said Whit, walking over to climb back onto Victoire's bed and reach for the window.

Victoire took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway before slowly making her way down the stairs. Upon reaching the entrance hall, she glanced into the living room, where her mother was sitting on the sofa with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. It wasn't until she reached out to set her teacup down that she noticed Victoire.

"Everyzing all right, sweet'eart?"

Victoire forced a small smile. "Let's hope so." She reached out to pull her cloak off the hook by the door. "I'll be right back."

"Where on earz are you going?" asked her mother, sitting up straighter. "It iz nearly midnight."

"Just outside for a second. I'm not going anywhere."

"It iz freezing outside!"

"It's just for a second," Victoire said, stopping short of actually mentioning that Ted was outside for fear of her mother wondering what his prerogative was. "I, um, dropped something out my window on accident."

"Why do you 'ave your window open?"

Victoire pulled her cloak around her. "It just got a little stuffy, but it's shut now." She reached out to pull the door open. "I'll be right back." She smiled quickly before stepping outside into the frigid night, hoping that her mother had believed her little lie.

Outside on the porch, she immediately felt a chilly wind sweep up the hem of her cloak and send a bone chilling cold through her body. She wrapped her arms around herself in a makeshift attempt to keep warm, but quickly looked for any sight of Ted. He apparently hadn't come around the front.

She took to the porch stairs and set out across the lawn, walking towards the side of the house where she knew her room was stationed. She suddenly wondered why she hadn't bothered to put on something a little warmer. Her cloak couldn't only block out so much of the cold, and her robe, thin cotton clothes, and slippers weren't doing much to help matters. She wished she would have grabbed a scarf or some mittens.

She turned the corner to the left side of the house, where the large tree that sat just outside of her window came into view and blocked out most of the space along the horizon of the sea. Through a crack in the branches, she could just barely make out a crescent moon that hung low in the sky and provided very little light on anything in this darkness.

Victoire pulled out her wand to cast a spell to shed some light on her surroundings, but the sound of a cough over by the house made her instead look straight in that direction. It was there, crouching lazily again the house in a squatted position, she saw Ted.

She exhaled slowly, her cold breath visible against what little light there was before she stepped forward to fill the gap between them. Ted didn't bother to move to meet her halfway, but rather stayed crouched exactly where he was. She wondered if he was so drunk that he could barely stand, and if that was the case, then why on earth was he Apparating here in the middle of the night?

"Hey," Ted said quietly, right as she found herself a few feet away from him. "Happy Birthday."

Was it even her birthday anymore? She didn't even know, but she wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't. As she stood there staring at him, she was suddenly reminded of the year before—her seventeenth birthday—whereupon Ted had also showed up just before midnight to see her before the day was out. It was almost funny how the exact same gesture was now being viewed in a completely different way.

"This was a lot a cuter when you did it last year," she said dryly.

He didn't say anything; instead he stayed put where he was crouching, his eyes focused on the ground. Even in the dark, she could see how heavy his eyes looked and how exhausted he seemed. If it were for any other reason other than him being stupidly drunk, then she may have felt sorry for him.

"What are you doing, Ted?" she asked, shifting her weight on her feet to keep the cold at bay.

"I'm not sure," he said, still not looking at her.

"Oh," she said blankly, her eyebrows flexing skeptically at that.

"I wanted to see you," he said, his voice still very low, though after a beat pause he looked up at her. She then saw first hand how tired his face really looked. Not only were there bags under his eyes, but they looked bloodshot and glassy. His hair was messier than it usually was, and oddly enough, it was brown. She'd never known him to willing wear it brown when he didn't have to, which only told her that he was so drunk that he was incapable of keeping even his simplest habits straight.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" she asked.

He shrugged and looked away. "Don't know. Can't remember."

"Not surprising," she said, looking off along the sea before turning back to him. "You shouldn't be Apparating if you're this drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he said flatly.

"Right," she said sarcastically. "No, of course not."

"I'm something right now," he said with a little laugh, "but it's not drunk."

"Sure. Fine," she said, deciding to just let him just call it whatever he wanted. "But why are you standing here throwing rocks at my window in the freezing cold—" She stopped and noticed he wasn't wearing a cloak or anything warmer than a standard set of robes. "Where's your cloak?"

"Left it somewhere," he said dully. "Probably lost it."

She rolled her eyes. "You're going to freeze to death."

"Nah, if anything, the broken glass would have done me in. Not the cold."

Victoire wasn't even going to pretend to understand what that meant. As it was, she was beginning to feel her feet go numb, which meant attempting to crack his drunken code wasn't worth the effort. "Ted, you need to go home and get some rest. Sober up a bit and then we can talk. This isn't doing anyone any good."

"I'm not drunk, Vic. I told you that already."

"Whatever you are," she muttered. "If you sit out here in the cold for much long, you're going to get sick."

"Are you still upset with me?" he asked, ignoring what she'd said and instead looking up at her through squinted eyes.

"I will be if I end up losing a foot to frostbite."

He continued to stare at her.

She sighed. "Ted, we can talk later."

"It's a yes or no question," he said simply.

He was acting weird; no doubt because of how drunk he was. The last thing she felt like doing was standing there and explaining to him how she felt at the moment, considering he wouldn't understand. She'd be wasting her time with him like this. If he was sober, then he'd be able to comprehend, but—

"Because I really am sorry," he said, cutting into her thoughts. "I fucked up. I'm sorry. I love you. The last few hours have been hell for me, and going through it all thinking you didn't want anything to do with me was probably one if the shittiest feelings I've ever felt."

She continued to stare at him. She didn't know how serious he was being, or even how much of this he'd remember in the morning, but all of this had to be coming from somewhere. Drunk or not, it seemed mostly sincere. She really did want to believe him and put this entire mess behind them and go back to way things were before, but could it really be that simple?

Ted reached up to rub his eyes. "Just tell me what I have to do to fix things and I'll do it."

"You don't have to…" She sighed and looked at her slippers. "I don't want you to do anything. I just wanted you to understand why I was upset in the first place."

"I knew why you were upset," he said, snapping his head up to look at her. "You were just being…" He trailed off. "It doesn't even matter. I'm sorry."

She grinned a little. "You said that already."

"I'll say it a hundred times if I have to," he said as he finally stood up from his crouched position and used the house as a means of supporting himself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Okay, that's enough," she with a quick laugh, reaching out to touch his arm as a means of signaling for him to stop. As she did, she noticed the fabric of his sleeve felt oddly stiff and crusty. She looked down at it.

Ted looked down too, but he immediately reached to pull his sleeve up to his elbow, as if he was purposely hiding something.

"What's happened to your clothes?" she asked after just barely catching a glimpse of something dark running up his sleeve. "What is that?"

"I just had an accident. I cut myself, but—"

Victoire took a step back, the realization hitting her instantly after hearing the words, 'cut myself.' "Wait, is that…?" She hesitated. "Is that blood?"

He coughed. "It looks worse than it is."

"Is that _your_ blood?!"

Ted let his sleeve unravel and fall from his elbow back down his arm, where he lamely held it out for her to see. "Yeah."

She inhaled sharply, now seeing first hand his dried blood that covered his sleeve. Even in the dark, she could easily tell how much of it there had been.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

"Ted, what happened?"

His eyes drooped a little. "It's a really long story…"

"But…are you okay?" she asked, sounding doubtful. "That's a lot of blood."

He nodded and shrugged a little. "I went to the hospital and they put all sorts of potions in me. They fixed this—" he rolled up his sleeve again and held up his hand palm up, where, in a flash, the smooth skin that had been there a moment before morphed to reveal a long, semi-healed gash mark that ran from the center of his palm to his wrist, "and I was supposed to go home, but I wanted to come and see you first."

Victoire gaped at seeing the wound, but it didn't stop her from taking his hand into hers to immediately examine it. That had caused all of this blood? But how? Why? When? Where? She wanted to know what had happened, but Ted barely looked like he could keep his eyes open, let alone tell her.

She knew then that he wasn't drunk at all, but rather, he was doped up. He'd had so many different potions working through him that he clearly couldn't function properly. That's why he was acting so weird.

"You're not drunk…" she said, still looking at his hand.

"I know that," he said obviously.

She dropped his hand and looked up at his face, which she'd just then noticed was especially pale. It was the closest she'd come to him since walking outside in the first place, and it was then that she figured out that him looking like death wasn't because he'd been binge drinking all night, but because he'd been run through the ringer. Not to mention, he wasn't wearing a cloak and it was freezing outside…

"Ted, you need to get inside before you get sick," she said, sounding far more like her mother than she would have liked to admit. "You're really weak right now. You'll barely be able to stave off the cold."

He nodded a little, but made a point of looking her in the eyes with his own droopy, tired eyes. "Are we okay?"

"Ted…"

"Please just answer me."

"If I say yes," she asked, "will you please stop running around like a mad man in the cold and get some rest?"

He smiled a little. "Only if you mean it."

"Then yes, we're okay," she said matter-of-factly. "But let's go inside. You can't be Apparating home like this."

Ted grunted and picked himself off the wall, though he quickly began shaking his head. "I'm not letting your family see me like this." He coughed and blinked several times. "I'm covered in my own blood and out of my head. There's no way…"

"Ted, they'll understand. You can't—"

"I can make it home," he said lamely before he focused his tired gaze on her.

"Ted, please just come inside."

"I'm not letting your parents see me like this," he said more adamantly. "I don't want them to know about this."

She looked him up and down; her doubtful expression already speaking for.

"Honestly, Vic, I'm fine," he said, still bracing himself against the house. "I made it here okay and I'll make it home okay." He paused and looked up at the sky. "I wish you could come."

"Come?" she asked.

"With me," he said. "Home. It's just…going home alone right now sounds," he visibly shivered, "not fun."

"I know," she said, frowning the longer she watched him. "But you know my parents won't…especially if you won't explain to them why..." she shook her head, "it's why you should come inside—"

Ted just shook his head.

Victoire stared at him, not knowing what else to do or say. He wasn't budging on this. She looked down at the ground. "I can come by first thing tomorrow morning," she offered

He nodded a little, before mumbling, "I wish you could be there _now_."

She forced a sad smile, wishing in part that she could do just that. If she could go, she'd at least be able to keep an eye on him for the next couple of hours. She'd never seen him like this before, and it worried her to know he was going back to his empty flat alone.

But that was something that would never happen. Her parents wouldn't believe her if she told them some crackpot story of Ted showing up bloodied and doped up in the middle of the night, and if she actually brought Ted to them to prove it, they wouldn't let him leave. Not to mention, with Ted refusing to allow himself to be seen by them, it only left the crackpot story option; one that would only make her parents suspicious—if they didn't write her off as mental first.

"I wish I could," she said honestly. "But first thing in the morning, I promise."

He shivered again, but without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Whatever it was, he attempted to inspect it for a moment before holding it out to her.

"What's this?" she asked, taking from him what appeared to be a key. Upon examining it further, she saw that it was just that—a small, brass, old looking key.

"It's to my flat," he said, his voice sounding slightly clearer. "Just let yourself in tomorrow morning."

"Oh," she nodded, "okay. But how are you going to get in when you get home?"

"Spell," he mumbled. "Actually," he gestured to the key, "I want you to keep that. You'll need it."

She blinked. "You want me to keep your key?"

He took a step around her, moving further than she'd seen him move all night. "Yeah, it's so you don't ever have to knock again." He shrugged. "You shouldn't have to knock anymore. Happy Birthday."

She looked down at the key in her hand and turned it over twice, noting that the metal was cold. This was a big step. A huge step, really. He'd give her a key to his place. She couldn't help but wonder if Ted was thinking properly or if the potions in him system were making him act a little loopy. The last thing she wanted to do was put him in a position where he might regret his decision in the morning.

"Let's go ahead and talk about this tomorrow when you feeling better," she said before she reached out to grab his good hand. "When you're sure you want to do this."

"I already know I want to do this," he said, looking off in the direction of the front of her house. "I've been planning on doing this for months. Why do you think I'm carrying a key around in my pocket if I can get into my flat with a spell?"

"Victoire?!" shouted her mother's voice from somewhere. "Where are you?"

Victoire hadn't even had time to gauge what he had said before, with a quick pop, Ted was gone. He'd disappeared.

She stared, somewhat startled, at the spot he'd just been standing in, hoping with all hope that he was coherent enough to have made it home instead of off somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. Even though he wasn't drunk, he still wasn't in the proper state of mind to be Apparating. She should have made sure of that.

"Victoire!" called her mother again.

With a lump in her throat and the key clutched her key in her hand, Victoire pulled her cloak around her and took to a jogging pace towards the front of the house. It was there that her mother stood on the porch, watching her as she came into sight.

"It iz far too cold to be outside in what you are wearing," said her mother with disapproving stare. "What was taking you so long?"

"It was dark," she said, pointing back towards where she had come from as she remembered the story she had told her mother about dropping something out the window. "I couldn't see. I, um, had to search."

"Did you find whatever it iz?"

She nodded solemnly as she shuffled past her back into the house.

"Well?" her mother asked, following after her and shutting the door behind them. "What was it?"

"Oh," Victoire said, taken off guard by the request. "It was…" She remembered the key in her hand and held it up. "It was this."

"A key?"

She nodded.

"What iz it to?"

Victoire didn't answer her right away, but instead looked down at the key that she was letting lay flat across her palm. When she finally did, her tone sounded far away. "So many things."

Her mother stared at her curiously, though Victoire didn't bother to stay put to answer anymore questions. Instead, she immediately took to the stairs to escape her mother's gaze and return to her room.

"Tell me everything that happened," said Whit before Victoire could take even one step inside. It seemed that she had been waiting—rather attentively—on the camp bed, as judged by how quickly she sat up at attention once Victoire reappeared. Across the room and on Victoire's own bed, Dominique posed a complete opposite reaction. She was stretched out comfortably with her head resting on a nearby pillow; unlike Whit, she barely even budged.

"I'm surprised you didn't listen out the window," Victoire said, throwing a particular look at Dominique.

"Don't look at me," Dominique said, reaching her arms out in front of her before tucking them behind her head. "You know I would have. Whit wouldn't let me."

"And don't think she didn't try," Whit said frankly, glancing back at Victoire. "So? What happened?"

Victoire crossed the room towards her bed and pushed her sister's legs to the floor with a sweeping motion to make room to sit. Without a word, she immediately plopped down at the foot of her bed and let her back rest against the nearest wall. She absently continued to turn Ted's key over and over again in her hand.

"Was he drunk?" Dominique asked. "Because he seemed pretty pissed from where I was sitting."

Victoire shook her head. "He had some accident tonight. He couldn't even tell me what it was because he was so doped up on potions. He's got this huge gash on his hand and there was blood all over his sleeve. Apparently, he went to the hospital and everything."

Whit gaped.

"And you didn't ask what happened?"

Victoire shrugged. "He couldn't tell me. He just looked so exhausted and dead-on-his-feet that I didn't want to stand there questioning him." She frowned and looked down at the key in her hand. "He looked awful."

"I wonder what happened," mumbled Whit.

"He mentioned something about glass," Victoire said, her tone dropping significantly lower, "but I don't know if that had anything to do with what happened. He could have meant anything."

"So, wait," Dominique said. "Was he just here to show off his injury?"

She shook her head. "No, he said something about how the last few hours had been hell, and thinking I was mad at him just made things worse. That was really it."

"I'm sure that after going through something that put him in the hospital," Whit said, grabbing her pillow and pulling it onto her lap, "he'd probably realized it's stupid to be fighting when who knows when something terrible could happen."

"I guess," Victoire said, still staring down at the key.

"Or maybe you're just the person he wants to see when he's feeling shitty," Dominique said, a strange tenderness in her tone.

Victoire didn't look up, but a small smile played at the corner of her lips at hearing that. She had to admit that it took actually hearing something along those lines for her to register the idea of that being the case. After all, he was the first person she wanted to see when she was feeling low or sick; she could only hope the same from him.

"What's that?" asked Whit, gesturing to the key in her hands.

She stopped turning it and held it up to show her. "When I told him I was going to come by and check on him in the morning he gave it to me." She lowered it. "It's to his flat. He told me to keep it and that I'd be needing it. I guess he's wanted to give it to me for awhile."

"But it took being doped up on pain and strengthening potions for him to actually do it?" Dominique joked, taking the moment to stand from the bed and brush the wrinkles out of her clothes.

"Would you let me have my moment?" Victoire asked.

"By all means, moment away," Dominique said, smiling as she headed towards the door. She hovered just by it before exiting out into hallway. "But anyway, I'm glad you two worked everything out. You're annoying when you're mopey."

"Yeah, well, you're annoying all the time," Victoire countered.

Dominique laughed as she walked out, and it carried even after she had disappeared out into the hallway and out of sight. With Whit and Victoire now alone, a thoughtful silence filled between the two of them once Dominique's laughter finally tapered off. Victoire continued to turn her key over in her hand under Whit's gaze.

"I think the key is a sweet gesture," Whit said. "It's sort of like a metaphor."

Victoire cocked her eyebrow at her. "A metaphor for what?"

"You know," she said as she hugged the pillow in her lap. "He's opening doors for you. For the two of you."

A doubtful smile crept across Victoire's face. "I think you're really reaching." She stared at the key. "Though it is nice to have the freedom to come and go, I suppose. He doesn't seem care that I can just walk in on him whenever. It's like he's encouraging it."

"Well, that's what I meant," Whit said obviously. "All people have their walls, and the more you give someone the opportunity to break through those walls, the more intimate you become. I read it in a book once."

"Oh," Victoire said, laughing loudly. "Well, if you read it in a book…"

"You know what I mean," Whit said, shaking her head. "It's just, it's a big step, is all. He's taking the two of you seriously."

"I guess so," Victoire said, reaching out towards her desk to set the key down on desktop. She stared at it for a second longer before turning back to Whit. "You know what was really weird? When I saw him, I didn't even want to be mad at him anymore. Usually, I feel like I should still be mad or hold the grudge and be stubborn, but this time, I just didn't feel like doing that. I wanted to put everything behind me and move on. The fighting just seemed so stupid and pointless."

"I think some would say that means you're maturing," Whit said. "It's a mature response to forgive and move on when something really isn't the end of the world."

"You read that in a book?" Victoire joked.

"Ha-ha," Whit said, picking up her pillow and tossing it at Victoire's head. "You know I'm right."

Victoire ducked and let the pillow bounce off the wall behind her. "Right," she said. "Because you're always right?"

Whit smiled. "I wouldn't say _always_."

"Well," said Victoire as she pulled her knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms around her legs. "_I_ think the real answer is that being in love is making me go all soft."

"I don't know if I'd say _that_," Whit said, plopping herself down into a lying position on her bed. "But I think it might teach you a thing or two about yourself."

"The only thing it's teaching me right now is how to worry about whether or not Ted is all right. When he and I were out there, my mum called my name and his Disapparated before I could stop him. Now I'm wondering if he made it home."

Whit made a pensive face. "I'm sure he's fine. He made it here, didn't he? And getting here would have been harder than getting to a place where he goes everyday."

"Still," Victoire said, checking the clock and seeing it was a quarter after midnight, which meant that it was no longer her birthday. It was now New Year's Eve. Soon enough, yet another year would be out, and a fresh one beginning. After the last year she'd had, she could only wonder what was in store for her now that 2018 was on the horizon.

"I just wish I could be with him right now," Victoire said, thinking out loud. "Just knowing he's at home by himself…" She sighed.

Whit smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure he's fine."

"I hope so," Victoire said before shaking her head. "Sod it. Let's not even talk about it anymore. It'll just drive me mad if keep thinking about it."

"How about we go downstairs and see if there's any soufflé left?" Whit suggested. "It might take your mind off of things for awhile."

Victoire forced a lukewarm smile. "If it doesn't, the shouting match I'm going to have with Louis for eating the rest of it very well might."


	37. Getting Peace

Later that night, Victoire lay wide awake in her bed. She had been watching as the small traces of moonlight that had filed through her window bounced off the walls and reflected upon various sources around the room, though she was sure how long she'd been doing this. She glanced back at her clock and noticed it had been a half an hour since she'd last checked the time. It had only seemed like minutes, but just like that, thirty minutes had passed without warning.

She groaned frustratingly. Why couldn't she get her mind to settle? It was as if a hundred different thoughts were charging through her, all of which were fighting for her sole focus. At this rate, she would never get to sleep, but she simply couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of her gut that was making her worry about Ted. The same two questions continued to pester her—had he gotten home and was he okay? If only there was a way she could tell, then she might finally get some peace, but since she couldn't…

Why did she have to be such a worrier?

She shook her head and forced her eyes shut. He was fine. Why wouldn't he be fine? She needed to go to sleep. The faster she fell asleep, the sooner morning would be here and the sooner she could go and see him. That's all there was to it. She just needed to go to sleep and stop thinking about him.

Her eyes hadn't been shut for thirty second before they were back open again.

This wasn't going to work. Something needed to change. She flipped over onto her stomach and let her gaze scan the rest of her room. Whit had nodded off already, the sound of her tranquil breathing was one of only two noises Victoire could hear—the other being the wind outside as it rattled the tree branches around. Everything else was otherwise silent.

Out of boredom and lack of anything else to do, she started focusing on the objects around her room; studying them intently, as if she'd never seen them before. First was the clown figurine that sat atop her dresser chest. Her grandfather had given it to her when she was four to commemorate her first visit to France, but staring at it now in the dark, she noticed it gave off a particularly creepy vibe. Something about its smile was high unsettling…

She immediately switched her focus to the picture frames that hung on the wall opposite of her bed, but in the dark she could just barely make out the images within the frames. Not that she had to see them, considering she had them all memorized after having looked at them all hundreds of times in the past. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize each one. The first was a photo of her and her parents before she'd left for Hogwarts for her first year. The second was a picture of her and Whit that she had taken earlier in the year at school. The next was of she of her siblings in a café in Paris from over the summer, followed by one of her favorite pictures of her and Ted when they were kids playing out in the garden of her grandparents' house—

She opened her eyes. Well, that hadn't helped one bit in forgetting about Ted.

Right then, it became clear to her then that she was never going to sleep tonight; she was just going to lay here until day break, watching the clock tick down the minutes until morning came. It was all she could do.

She should have said something to her mother after Ted had Apparated away. If she had just explained things to her, she may have understood and let her go over there to make sure, but it was far too late now. Neither of her parents would take kindly to her waking them up at—she checked the clock—2:43 in the morning on a worried hunch that she was most likely overreacting to in the first place.

She sat up in bed and glanced out the window. It was instances like this that made her wish she could speed up the aging process and just grow up already. If it had been her nineteenth birthday, she wouldn't have to be lying here wondering "what if?" She'd be out of school, out on her own, and capable of doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She could stay out all night if she so pleased, and should could definitely go and see her boyfriend whenever she damn well felt like.

On that thought, her eyes shifted from the window to her desk, where she immediately settled on Ted's key lying right where she had left it earlier. With a small smirk, she reached forward and picked it up to examine it with what little moonlight was pouring through the window. She was old enough to have someone trust her with a key to their flat, but she wasn't old enough to use it between certain set hours of the day; all because she had to abide by her parents rules.

Stupid rules…

With a quick turn, she flipped the key over and over again in hand. The longer the watched it, the more that an oddly rebellious thought began to poke at her from the depth of somewhere inside her. It was the kind of thought she wasn't even aware she was capable of having until it struck her just now.

Yet, there it was formulating in her mind—something was telling her to just go and see for herself how Ted was doing at this very minute. She wasn't going to sleep anyway, and her parents were both well asleep by now. Everyone was asleep by now, so they would have no way of knowing if she just so happened to…

No, that was stupid. She couldn't sneak out. What was she thinking? If she got caught…

Her eyes went wide at the very thought of being caught. She didn't even want to imagine the repercussions of what would happen if she were caught sneaking out in the middle of the night to go and see her boyfriend. Her parents would _never_ let her hear the end of that! She could already envision the yelling and the scolding, not to mention that she'd be confined to her room until she moved away for good.

But…then again, that wasn't that far off, now was it? There were only a few more days left of Christmas holiday to punish her for, and then her parents would have to let her go back to school. She'd probably have to spend Easter holidays locked away, but she could always sign up to stay at Hogwarts during those if necessary. After that, she'd be done with school for good and ready to move out on her own anyway. Her parents would barely have any time to dole out any real punishment if—

Wait. Was she really sitting here thinking like this? Was she really trying to convince herself to go against her better judgment and do something stupid like sneak out in the middle of the night? Was she _actually_ attempting to rationalize her punishment to make it seem less terrible if she did so happen to get caught? Where was all of this coming from?

No. She couldn't sneak out. She just couldn't. After all, how would she even do it? Just get up and walk out the front door?

She considered that for a moment.

No, she'd have to use the kitchen door because it made less noise. No one would hear her if she used the kitchen door. If she did that, she'd really only have slip outside and then Apparate and…

Could it really be that easy?

She ran the plan over again in her head, attempting to search for flaw in which something could go wrong. It seemed so doable and easy. It seemed to make so much sense. Was this…?

Before she even knew what she was doing, with Ted's key clutched in her hand, she pulled her blankets off and placed her feet softly onto the ground. The floor creaked slightly, but one glance at Whit told her than it hadn't been enough to disturb her. Granted, Whit was the least of her worries at the moment, but she didn't want to chance anything.

With soft steps across the room towards her closet, Victoire realized she couldn't even get to her closet to change her clothes without somehow knocking into Whit's bed. There was no way around it. It seemed that if she was going to do this, she'd have to make due in her pajamas. Of course, once she remembered how cold it had been earlier, that wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

She grabbed her bathrobe off the back of her bedroom door and pulled it around her before slowly, almost barely, cracking the door open. When it made no noise, she tried to open it a little more, but the hinges didn't bother to creak until after she'd made just enough space for her to sneak though. She glanced back once more to check Whit, though quickly set her sights onto the dark hallway in front of her. She had to make sure everyone had gone to sleep before she could do anything further, and quickly noticed that no lights shinned from underneath anyone's bedroom doors. As she stepped further into the hallway to shut her bedroom door behind her, she glanced over the upstairs railing and down onto the foyer below. No lights shined from any of the adjoining rooms; the kitchen was dark and quiet, as was the living room.

With a deep breath that she held, as if that would somehow make her lighter when descending the stairs, she slowly made her way down towards the kitchen. She purposely skipped the fourth stair from the bottom—knowing that it had a tendency to creak loudly—and once on the ground floor, she glanced back up triumphantly. She made it this far.

With a quick dash towards the front door, she grabbed her cloak and pulled it around her as she made her way through the kitchen, around the dinner table, and over to where the side door was. Before she turned the lock, she quickly checked over her shoulder to make absolutely positive no one was standing there in the dark watching her. When no one was, she pulled the door open and stepped back out into the icy air for the second time that night.

Out on the side porch, she could hear her heart thumping in her ears as she made her way back around the side of the house. She wanted to Apparate as far away as possible from her parents' window for fear of them somehow hearing the tiny pop she would make upon Apparating away. She'd gotten this far already, she wasn't taking any chances.

As she reached the other side of the house, where the spot she and Ted had talked just hours before lay yards away, she double checked to make sure she still had Ted's key. She pocketed it into her cloak before throwing once last look back at her house to make sure no lights had come on. If she did get caught, she knew this was possibly the last few moments of freedom she would have for the next few months; she felt somewhat inclined to savor it. She could only hope that her house was this peaceful when she returned.

She Apparated on the spot, the pulling sensation whipping her aggressively against the cold, though only lasting for a moment. Before she had time to blink, she was already standing in the corridor outside of Ted's flat; his door just yards away. She stared at it for a long moment, realizing that she hadn't quite thought this far ahead yet. She had been so absorbed with sneaking out that what she was supposed to do when she got her had slipped her mind. Should she knock? Just because she had the key, it didn't mean she should just let herself in…did it? She'd hate to fail her very first test as a key holder by just barging in as if she owned the place. Especially at three o'clock in the morning.

Still, Ted told her to let herself in the morning, and he hadn't seemed too concerned with it then. Plus, he was probably—hopefully—asleep. The last she wanted to do was wake him up and force him out of bed when he should be resting.

_Right_, she thought, pulling the key out of her pocket. She was going to use the key. That's what it was there for. With her pulse racing, she walked over to the door and placed the key in to the keyhole, where it was actually a surprise to her to see it turn and click itself open. She wasn't sure why, but she had almost expected that not to happen.

She gently tapped the door open and found herself facing nothing but darkness in front of her. As she entered and shut the door behind her, she held her breath again for reasons she wasn't even sure of. Without a light, she couldn't make out any of the familiar references Ted had in his flat. She knew the kitchen was to the right, and if she walked in further, she would run the sofa if she wasn't careful. Ted's bedroom would be to the left, though she couldn't tell where the door was from where she was standing.

She drew her wand and whispered, "_Lumos" _before watching her wand light spill across the floor and illuminate everything in its path. Now she could make out everything in detail, though she stopped when a sudden thought occurred to her.

Here she was unannounced and fumbling around in the dark at three o'clock in the morning. If Ted was here, what was stopping him from thinking she was a prowler and hexing her on the spot?

Immediately, she shined her wand light onto the kitchen and walked over to where she knew she would find a light. With a quick click, the room grew bright and Victoire extinguished her wand's beam. It was then that she noticed Ted's bedroom door was open and that the light from the kitchen was now casting itself inside of it. If she just took a few steps forward, she'd be able to peer inside and have all the answers she'd been asking herself for the better part of the last few hours…

She took a deep breath and walked forward, peering slowly into his room.

Sure enough, lying shirtless on the bed with the sheet wrapped half around him in a confining sort of way, Ted lay asleep on his stomach. He'd made it home okay, and given the sound of his heavy breathing, he seemed to be fine. She smiled as she watched him, though she couldn't help but feel rather stupid having worried so much. Of course he was fine. Why wouldn't he be fine?

In that moment, Ted's hair flashed from brown, to blue, to a turquoise-ish color, which distracted her from her thoughts. She hadn't seen it do that since they were kids and she'd stumbled upon him napping a time or two. All she knew was that it had something to do with his dreams, but it had always fascinated her to watch it change so quickly and without warning.

She looked away and took a step back, already knowing that she should probably go. If he was asleep, she didn't want to wake him. He needed his rest and he looked comfortable. She'd gotten her answer and could now finally get some sleep of her own. If she left now, she'd have barely been gone.

Ted's hair flashed to blue again as he turned in his sleep onto his back. In the process, his left arm hung itself dully over the edge of the bed; his injury from earlier now completely visible. Seeing it so clearly made Victoire glance away from the bed and down to the floor, where a pile of robes sat as if they'd been hastily discarded. It only took a second for her eyes to adjust well enough to notice the bloody sleeve.

Something inside of her knew she should let him sleep—she did know that. But she couldn't help think that she should say _something_. It seemed rather strange to just sneak in and sneak out with no word. After all, what would Ted say if she told him she had stopped by to check on him, but not bothered to actually wake him?

As soon as she had asked herself the question, the sound of Ted's voice in her head—clear as day—answered, "Why didn't you just wake me?"

She stared at him a moment longer, but with a resigned sigh, she took a quick step forward towards his bed and reached out to gently shake his shoulder.

"Ted," she whispered.

He stirred for a brief second before suddenly turning over with a start, as if quickly realizing that someone was speaking to him when there shouldn't have been anyone there.

"Hey, it's me," she said immediately. "Victoire." She took out her wand and cast a lighting spell, knowing right away that the unexpected bright light on her face would probably startle him more that he already was. She wanted to prove it was her, though—in case he still wasn't sure. There was always a chance he had his wand nearby and the last thing she needed was to get hexed on accident.

On his back, Ted squinted away from the light before he sluggishly pulled himself onto his elbows. "Vic?"

She forced an awkward smile. "Hi."

He pulled himself further into a sitting position, causing the blanket he had had pulled around him to fall lazily to his lap. "Hi. What time is it?"

"Sometime after three, I think." She used her wand light to search the room for a clock to double check. When she found one, the time read 3:02.

"Oh, is that all?"

She pointed her wand light back at herself. "I know this is really weird, me just turning up like this, but after seeing you earlier, I was just…worried. I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

He started to rub his eyes, but laughed a little. "That's sweet."

"I just let myself in with the key," she said, pointing behind her towards the living room. "I wasn't going to wake you, but I sort of thought it would strange if I came in and didn't say anything."

Ted lowered his hand from his face looked up at her with the same tired eyes as earlier in the evening, though there was something behind them now that hadn't been there hours before. He looked much more coherent now, like the Ted she was used to seeing. "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling strangely stupid in this entire situation. "I figured you would have wanted me to." She looked away, wanting to change the subject to something other than her randomly showing up in the middle of the night like a weirdo. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged a little. "A lot better than earlier. My hand still hurts a little," he picked his hand up and squinted at it in the dark, "but that's about it."

"You look better," she said as she studied his face. He was certainly less pale now, and while he still looked tired, he didn't look like death. He just looked groggy—like someone had woken him up in the middle of the night.

"Did I look that bad?" he asked.

"Let's just say you looked bad enough for me to feel the need to come visit you in the middle of the night."

Ted yawned and vigorously began to rub his face. "Yeah, how'd you pull that off? Getting out of the house, I mean."

"I snuck out."

He stopped rubbing his face and lowered his hands. "Really?"

"How else could I?"

"I don't know." He laughed and pulled himself up further in order to reach out and part the curtains above his bed, letting the moonlight filter in and add some extra light to the room. "Maybe you told your parents I was in bad shape and they let you come and check on me. I would have believed that before I would have believed you snuck out."

She shrugged and smiled a little.

"You can put out the light," he said, pointing to her wand. "It's killing my eyes."

"Oops." She extinguished the light before pocketing her wand in her cloak. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he said, yawning again. "So, your parents don't know you're here?"

She shook her head.

"No one's expecting you back anytime soon?"

"No one knows I'm gone, but if they wake up and see I'm not there…" She made an obvious face.

Ted slowly began to smile. "What I'm getting at is that you don't have to rush back, then? I mean, you're out already."

"Oh," she said, realizing exactly where he was going with this. "No, I mean, I'd have to get back before people start waking up or else this is probably the last you'll see of me until I've graduated, but," she grinned, "I've got _some_ time."

"Well, in that case…" He made an obvious gesture of shifting himself over to create space on the bed. "Why don't you stay awhile?"

She smiled. "Stay awhile, huh?"

"Stay as long as you like," he said before he flipped over to his stomach and pulled a pillow underneath his head. "Stay forever."

She glanced around the room before reaching down to undo her cloak, though she hesitated briefly. "If I stay, you can't let me fall asleep. I'm serious about that."

He hummed. "Got it. Don't fall asleep."

"Because if you think I'm kidding about that whole not seeing me until graduation thing…" She threw her cloak over the back of a nearby chair.

"No, I know you're not," he said as he lazily watched her untie the waist tie of her bathrobe. "How many layers of clothes are you wearing?"

"Have you forgotten how cold it is outside?" she asked, tossing her bathrobe the way of her cloak and over the back of the chair.

"I've forgotten most of the night, to be honest," he mumbled. "That's probably a good thing."

"Hopefully you haven't forgotten what happened to your hand so you can tell me what happened," she said as she sat down on the bed and pulled herself under the covers to keep warm. Only seconds after she'd settled herself, Ted had reached over and pulled her closer, burying his face into the side of her arm.

"You don't want to hear about that," he said, his voice muffled from underneath her.

She adjusted herself so she was lying on her side, now face to face with him on the pillow. "Yes, I do."

Ted made a face, and with one eye open and the other closed, he sighed. "I was out at the Dragon's Breath with Simon and all of them and we were having a good time. I was drunk, and I ran into Durrin—"

"Durrin? Durrin Adams?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know him?"

"I work with him."

"Since when?"

"Since this summer. I've told you this before."

"No, you haven't."

"Yes, I have."

"No," she laughed, "first Elizabeth, now Durrin. You never mention any of these people—"

Ted cocked his eyebrow.

"Okay, never mind. Keep going."

"Anyway," Ted continued as he absently began running his hand up and down her back. "Simon and everyone else went on to the next pub, but I had to finish my pint, so I stayed behind. I'm standing there talking to Durrin and—oh yeah, Stuart Reynolds was there, too."

Victoire's jaw dropped. "Uhhh. Where'd he come from?"

"He and Durrin are mates, I guess," Ted said, reaching up to scratch his nose before returning his hand to her back. "I just thought that was random. Anyway, so I'm talking to them and then these idiots next to me start fighting with some goblins for some stupid reason. Spells start flying everywhere, I get stunned—"

Victoire gaped.

"And the next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital, my hand's all messed up, and I feel like shit. I hear that when I feel, I landed on a pile of glass, hence my hand."

"How'd you get to the hospital if you were stunned?"

"Durrin," he said, his eyes fluttering shut. "He was looking out for me. I owe him one."

"Jeez, Ted…" she whispered.

"And that's it," he said, opening his eyes to look down at his injured hand. "I guess I cut an artery or something." He looked at her and forced a little smile. "I could have died."

She pushed him away. "That's not funny."

"It's true," he said with a laugh. "I mean, it would have taken about ten hours or something, but it was possible."

"I'm glad potentially dying is funny to you," Victoire said, making a face before she rolled away from him and onto her back. "You know if something actually terrible would have happened to you, and one of the last things I'd ever said was that I didn't want to see you, I would have never gotten over that."

Ted was silent for a long moment. Victoire actually started to believe that he may have fallen asleep until he finally asked, "Did you mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"That you didn't want to see me today?"

She turned and looked at him.

"Because I seriously drove myself mad all day trying to figure out whether I should come over or whether I should give you space. I even went and talked to Harry about it, and I'll be honest, had I not had such a shitty night I probably wouldn't have."

She sighed and turned back onto her side to face him. "Even if I wanted to believe I meant it when I was mad at you, I won't even lie and say I wasn't really happy when you did turn up. I started to realize how stupid everything seemed and..." She stopped. "Don't get me wrong, I was also really annoyed because I thought you were drunk, but when I saw you, I didn't even want to fight anymore. I just wanted to put everything behind us and for things to be like this," she scooted closer to him, "again."

"I much prefer this over that," he said, wrapping both arms around her.

"That makes two of us." She let her forehead rest against his collar bone as she moved in closer.

And there it was. Right here, lying against him as she was, this felt like a perfect fit. It was so happy and warm here that she really could not understand how it was possible that she could ever be mad at him. There was always such a safe and secure feeling about being wrapped up in Ted that his arms felt like they belonged permanently in this curled position around her body.

She let the quiet, peacefulness of the moment soak for several minutes until Ted's breathing began to grow steadier. He sounded as if he was drifting off.

Victoire picked up her head to look up at him. "Are you asleep?"

He shook his head, but kept his eyes shut. "I'm just really comfortable."

"And comfortable will lead to falling asleep in about thirty seconds."

"I'm trying not to," he said in a drowsy tone, his eyes still closed.

"If you fall asleep, I have to leave," she said, still watching his face. "I can't risk falling asleep."

Ted forced his eyes open and blinked a few times. He abruptly pulled his arms back from around her and flipped himself over onto his back, where he pulled himself into a sitting position and let his head now lean against the wall. "I'm awake."

Victoire flipped over onto her back as well and looked up at him from upside down on the pillow. "You know, you can go to sleep. You've had a rough night. Don't let me stop you."

"I feel fine," he said, glancing down at her. "Sleepy, but fine. Plus, I can sleep anytime. Getting you over here is a different story. I think this is the most alone time we've gotten since you got home." He laughed a little. "Finally, more than five minutes."

"Maybe this sneaking out thing should be a new habit," she said, still looking up at him upside down.

He grinned and reached down to absently stroke her hair. "Just don't go getting yourself caught. I'd rather have the five minutes at a time than none at all."

Victoire smiled at that, though she closed her eyes and let the feeling of his fingers running through her hair settle with her. She had only ever allowed a very small number of people do this throughout the course of her life, but Ted was the only one who made it all feel so uncomplicatedly good. If he kept this up, she was going to fall asleep.

"Don't fall asleep," he joked.

She continued to smile before opening her eyes. "I can't help it."

Ted slid back down into a lying position, where he held out his arm and silently gestured for her to come closer. She did just that, sliding into the space between his chest and his arm and letting her head comfortable rest itself right below his shoulder.

"You know what will be nice?" she said.

"Hmm?"

"The day that I can actually just fall asleep right here, right now, and not have to worry about getting in trouble because I shouldn't be here in the first place."

Ted made a noise of agreement before adding, "I think about that a lot."

She let her hand rest on chest and looked up at him. "Yeah?"

He nodded before again let his hand absently stroke at her hair. "It'll just be nice when I can fall asleep and wake up next to you." He suddenly picked up the blankets and looked underneath them. "Hell, this is first time I've even what you pajamas look like." He looked back up at her. "Well, that is, since you gave up wearing the ones with feet built in."

Victoire laughed, though she could distinctly remember exactly what he was talking about. A pair of red and blue striped pajamas from when she had been smaller that did happened to have had the feet built into them. She'd only ever worn them in the winter time, but she had great memories of how warm they had made her feel. They were one of those things that she couldn't see herself ever forgetting; Ted too, it seemed.

"I can't believe you remember those," she said.

"Don't ask me how I do," he said. "But I do. "Don't get me wrong, you were cute in them, but," he laughed, "I'm glad you've put them behind you."

"Oh, don't act like you didn't have some terrible little choices from your past, Victoire said, pulling her head and resting her chin on his chest to look directly at him. "Remember that one summer—you couldn't have been older than six or seven—and you wore that tattered, stupid, black tie around with you? You just wore it over everything."

Ted hummed, sounding as if he did remember.

"I still remember when you got upset because you thought you lost it, but really your grandmother had just taken it to be cleaned since it was so dirty." She laughed a little. "You were obsessed with that thing."

"Only because it belonged to my dad," he said in a distant, sleepy voice. "I was sort of attached to it for awhile there. I still have it somewhere in a drawer at my Grams's house."

Victoire continued to stare at him, surprised that she had never know that about him. "I never knew that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, my Grams found it one day amongst a lot of my mum's old stuff, so I took it started wearing it just to pretend. After awhile it turned into like a security blanket or something. I just kept wearing it." He began stroking her hair again. "This was also during the time I was having these recurring dreams about my parents almost every night, so I think wearing that thing somehow helped make those feel more real." He suddenly made a funny face. "You know, I had more issues as a kid than I let on."

"I never knew you had recurring dreams about your parents either," Victoire said, returning her head to his shoulder.

"For about two years, all the time," he mumbled. "They were always really vivid dreams, too. I could hear their voices—or what I imagined were their voices— and I could see their faces. Only my Grams and Harry ever knew about them because I woke up crying a few times, but they were the only ones I ever told—well, until now." He kissed the top of her head. "Here I am telling you all my secrets."

She looked up at him again, but lacked the ability to not smile at that comment. "I feel like you know most of my secrets. Discretion isn't something I've ever been good at."

He laughed at that. "That's true."

"Well, okay, maybe not," she said, pulling herself up to sit on her knees and face him where he lay. "How about this—I had a crush on you when I was younger."

"Yeah, everyone knew that."

"They did?" she asked, though she had a feeling that he was probably right. She had never been a subtle child.

"I was the densest kid you could have met when it came to girls and," he smiled, "even I knew that."

She twisted her face into mock frustration. "Okay. Well…" She looked away and up towards where the curtains were parted and letting light trickle in. "Give me a second. I'll think of something else."

"It's not a big deal," he said, reaching out to grab the front of her shirt and tug it. "Lay back down."

"Not until I think of something," she said matter-of-factly. She suddenly reached down to pull at the blanket he was using; with one quick tug, she pulled it off of him and wrapped it instead around herself to keep warm.

Ted's watched her, his face now begging the question, _'What that was about?',_ but he said nothing as he lay there staring up at her— his head cocked lazily to the side and a funny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"This isn't fair," Victoire said after she'd wrapped herself so tightly with the blanket that her head just barely poking out from the top. "You know all of my secrets."

"So, because of that, you feel it necessary to steal my blanket?"

She laughed and let the blanket fall back down to the bed. "Seems that way, doesn't it?"

Ted rolled his eyes and barely smiled, but there was a playfulness in his expression that caused Victoire to have a surge of willingness suddenly course through her. In that moment, she couldn't help but feel more than normally attracted to him because of the way he was just lying there, half-dressed, and smiling at her as if they were the only two people in the world in on some very special secret. There was something enticingly intimate about everything occurring right then. It was almost as if the sign she'd asked for a hundred times in the past was now staring right back at her through Ted's eyes. She knew what she could do with this moment—what she wanted to do—but she just needed to act on it.

Ted suddenly reached out and grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her down on top him. "You sure do have a lot of energy for three-something in the morning."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, her chin now resting on his chest again as she found her face just centimeters away from his.

He smiled very particularly. "I guess that all depends on what we're doing."

"What's all this 'we're' business?" she teased, throwing him a suggestive smile. "I thought you were sleepy?"

He quickly shook his head. "Wide awake."

She continued to smile, feeling rather amused by his reaction and now curious as to how far she could push him. "Yes, but, you've had a really rough night. You should be relaxing." She purposely rose at that moment and twisted over him so that her legs were on either side of his hips.

"This is relaxing," he said, wasting no time in sitting up and pulling her flat onto his lap. If she had had any doubts about going any further with this before, they were all washed away the second she felt his erection pressed up against her leg. Knowing she had caused that only fed her desire to push on.

"Is it?" she asked, leaning in to kiss his lips. She let her fingers slowly run through the back of his hair for a moment before pulling away and taking a calculated route along his jaw line and down to his neck. "What I was hoping we could do isn't exactly relaxing."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, his body reflexively tensing as she felt his hands grip her hips. "And what's that?"

Victoire stopped kissing his neck to look at him. "You just want me to say it."

He made a breathy noise that sounded halfway between a hum and a laugh. "You're damn right I do."

She smiled and leaned in once more to kiss him, but paused just before their lips met. "How about I just show you?"

She kissed him again, and this time he kissed her back with an extra added sense of energy about him. There was something about sitting there on his lap—her mouth on his, her hands still in his hair—that gave Victoire an immense sense of control. She felt completely in control. Kissing was something she'd been doing for years now; something she assumed she was fairly well versed in the mechanics of. She knew when to open her mouth more and when to close it; she knew when to use her tongue a little and when to use it a lot. She was used to the various textures and the interchanging feeling of wet and dry parts of the mouth…These were all things she felt in control of.

It was this control that she felt the need to take advantage of at the moment considering there were only a few more bases to cover until she would have to relent to Ted to take over the situation. Soon enough, she wouldn't have clue what she was doing next.

In part, she knew most of it would be instinctive. You put _it_ in _there_ and work out the details as you went, but as she continued to sit there kissing him, she had to wonder how much of it was instinctual and how much of it was learned. She didn't want to look stupid…

Ted's hands rose from her hips and went under her shirt, where they grazed her abdomen for just a moment before he reached back down and pulled up at the hem of her shirt. She raised her arms in the air so he could tug it over head, but continued to kiss him as he tossed it off somewhere into the darkness. He pulled her down onto the bed with him.

Victoire tried to draw this moment out for as long as possible, interchanging between kissing his mouth, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, then running her hands around his torso and back up through his hair. She had laid back and let him do the same to her for what seemed like several amazing hours, but was probably more like a handful of minutes. It hadn't been until she reached down—almost without realizing she was doing it—to grab at the waistband of his pants that she suddenly sensed the dynamic start to shift. It was at this point that Ted shifted her off him and went to his pants, where with one quick gesture he pulled them down around his ankles and tossed them off into the darkness.

"Those were just going to get in the way," he said with an adorable little smile across his face. It almost seemed out of place considering how sexually charged he'd been just seconds before.

Victoire laughed as she watched him hold up one finger, as if signaling for a minute, before he climbed over her and out of the bed. He looked like he was looking for something on the floor.

She took the moment to admire the view, silently wondering if she could have ever predicted the two of them would have come this far. Ted, the same person who remembered her in footie pajamas over a decade ago, was now the same person she wished would hurry up looking for whatever it was he was searching for in the dark and get back over on top of her.

"What are you looking for?" she whispered.

He didn't answer her, but instead was now searching through his blood stained robes. "There we go." He turned around with his wand now in his hand. "Found it."

"Oh," Victoire said, immediately realizing why he'd gone to fetch that; the entire weight behind what that wand meant hit her instantly. This was really going to happen.

Ted placed the wand on the bedside table and climbed back in beside her. There was a quiet sense of calm about him as he lay on his side, bent his arm at the elbow, and propped his head up on his hand. He smiled as he looked at her. "You look incredible right now."

She felt a little self conscious all of a sudden, but still smiled as she laid there fiddling with the sheet between her fingers. Her mind was so busy focusing on what was about to happen, that she really didn't know what to say.

"Seriously," Ted said, reaching up to push a piece of stray hair out of her face. "Do you know how lucky I am?"

She swallowed and smiled again.

"Because I am," he said, watching her face and glancing between her eyes and the part of her forehead where his hand still rested after moving that stray hair.

"Same," she said, just barely finding her voice. "I feel the same way."

Ted smiled and reached out to run his hand along her stomach. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, but exhaled slowly.

"Just so you know, I'm not expecting anything, so if you don't—"

For some reason, the noble nature of his comment brought a weird sense of calm over her, which in turn made her burst out laughing. Just like that, the laughter felt like a release, as if all of her nerves were escaping her through this very action. The more she laughed the more at ease she felt.

Ted furrowed his brow. "What's so funny?"

She smiled at him and reached out to touch his face. "If you're not expecting anything, then why did you go get your wand off the floor?"

He looked puzzled for a second before an expression that said, "_Well, shit…"_ crossed his face. "I…" He slowly grinned. "All right, you got me, but was just planning ahead just in case. It's not like I'll be upset if we don't—"

She continued to smile at him; if it were possible, she fell in love with all over again in that precise moment. She pulled his face towards hers and kissed him, her nerves swept away into the sea of doubt that was slowly drying up in her mind. One thing was for complete certain—she had only ever been hesitant of the act of sex itself, never Ted. She had never been more certain that Ted was the guy who was supposed to be beside her right now.

She stopped kissing him for a moment and settled her hands on the waist of her own pants. It was the last bit of control she knew she had before entering into unknown territory, and she was going to take advantage of it. Just like Ted had done with his, she pulled her pants down around her ankles and tossed them aside.

* * *

A/N: Because in the beginning I said I would mention it, this is one of those chapters that has an an extended version over at my journal. :) Feel free to check it out if you're interested.

Secret- I wanted to name this chapter: Getting A Peace, but I assumed people would just think that I can't spell piece and thus, wouldn't get it. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! This story broke 300! Woohoo! The next update will actually be the final one. :) Three chapters until the end of the series!


	38. Expected and Unexpected

"Stop it," mumbled Ted.

Auggie hopped from spot to spot on Ted's workbench, attempting to stalk a lone piece of toast that sat there. He'd been at it for the last five minutes; ever since Ted had brought his breakfast over to sit and eat. Ted had a feeling Auggie thought he was being especially covert in trying to nab the last piece, but he really couldn't have been more blatant if he tried. And he was trying…

Ted almost has to think that Auggie was doing this purposely to annoy him. After a night of being left out in the cold once he'd returned from hunting, his owl wasn't in the most of agreeable of moods. Ted and Auggie had a fairly set schedule worked out concerning when the window would be left open or closed, but after Ted's night, he'd accidently forgotten to leave it open for Auggie's return. Of course, most owls wouldn't have even thought twice of this, but Auggie was a spoiled brat who enjoyed returning home to his warm cage. Sitting outside on a window ledge was not his idea of how he should be treated, and thus, he was now spending the morning giving Ted the cold shoulder.

That was until he had brought out toast.

"You're a snow owl," Ted muttered, picking up the last piece of toast before Auggie could nab it. "You're supposed to _like_ spending your nights out and about. You're built for the cold."

Auggie's head cocked completely to the side as he narrowed his eyes on Ted. A low hoot escaped him.

"You're a complete pain in the arse," Ted mumbled, splitting the toast in half and handing him the smaller of the two pieces. "I hope you know that."

Auggie snapped at the piece hastily, making Ted retract his hand at lightning speed. As he looked down to make sure all of his fingers were still there, a sudden knock at his front door made him look at a nearby clock. It was 9:30 in the morning. Who on earth was calling at 9:30 in the morning?

"It's open!" he yelled, stuffing his last half of toast into his mouth before pointing his wand towards the door to unlock it. He began to stand to greet whomever it was that happened to be there, but when Simon took the liberty of letting himself in, Ted plopped back down into his seat.

"Hey," Ted managed to sputter, still chewing his breakfast. "I wasn't s'pecting ya for a foo more ow-ers."

Simon shut the door behind him, but immediately turned a strange, almost relieved, expression onto Ted. "Thank Merlin, I thought you were in a coma or something."

"Saw-we?" Ted asked, swallowing finally.

Simon crossed the room towards him, stopping only to sit on the arm of the nearest sofa. "I read in the _Prophet_ this morning about that pub fight at the Dragon's Breath and they said fifteen people had to be taken to the hospital for various spell damage and injuries. They said two unidentified men were in comas from getting hit by several simultaneous spells."

"Really?" Ted asked, not really realizing that the events of yesterday night had gone any further than him hurting his hand.

Simon nodded his head a little. "And then, of course I got to thinking that maybe one of those people had been you since I didn't see you for the rest of the night. At first, I didn't even think anything of it because I just assumed you left to go and talk to Victoire or something. It didn't occur to me until this morning that you could be one of these coma blokes."

Ted shook his head. "Nope. Not me."

Simon exhaled a sigh of relief before laughing a little. "Here I thought you got all fucked up a pub fight while I was just down the street getting wasted. We're you even still there when the fight happened?"

"Oh yeah…"

"What happened?"

"Dunno," Ted said. "I got hit by a Stunning Spell and knocked unconscious. I guess I fell down on some glass." He held up his hand to show what little damage was left to his almost healed hand. "Then I had to go to the hospital because I was bleeding everywhere, but I really don't remember much of what happened. By the time I came to, I was full of potions and sort of disoriented."

Simon gawked at him. He had apparently not expected that as an answer.

"It was a long night," Ted said, though a sudden small smile crept across his face as he spoke. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Simon stood from the couch. "You're taking the piss, right? You didn't seriously have to go to the hospital?"

"No, I did."

His jaw dropped. "Shit, Ted! I thought you just left early to go talk to Victoire! You had to go to the bloody hospital!?"

"Well, I did talk to her," Ted said, now full on grinning. "But I did that after the hospital."

Simon ignored this instead thumped back down on the couch's arm in a stunned sort of way. "How in the hell…?" He looked away. "What the hell kind of friend am I when I leave you to get carted off to the hospital and I don't even know about it."

"It's no big deal," said Ted. "I had a bloke from work look out for me. You couldn't have known, and if anything, you're smart for getting out when you did. Shit, Simon, you're getting married today. You can't afford to be in a coma."

Simon smiled a little, but quickly forced it off his face. "Bloody hell, Ted…" He stared at him. "You're all right, though?"

"Yeah. I'm actually fantastic." His smile grew wider. "I know it sounds impossible, but I ended up having an amazing night."

"Yeah," Simon said sarcastically, "that's what everyone who spends their night in the hospital says. I hear it's like a fucking party."

"I wasn't in the hospital that long," Ted corrected, swiveling from side to side in his chair. "I was there for maybe an hour."

"Just an hour? I went ahead and assumed you were there longer because you look like you haven't slept in days." He gestured to him. "No offense."

Ted spun around once in his chair before planting his feet on the ground to face Simon. "I didn't sleep much last night, but that had nothing to do with the hospital."

Simon threw him a pointed look. "I have a feeling you're fishing for something."

Ted smiled and shrugged.

"You're going make me guess, aren't you?" He sighed lazily and looked as if he was now searching his head for a possible answer. "Let's see….oh, wait. You said you talked to Victoire. You must have worked everything out, then. That's what you're getting at."

"Yeah, we're good again." Ted said, still smiling as bits and pieces from the previous night began replaying in his mind at the mere mention of her name. Every time he closed his eyes, he could picture exactly how good everything about last night had felt. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the touch—especially the touch, that should be stressed—but nothing compared just how good he had felt being with her. The actual sex aside, there was something extra there—an emotional or intimate connection, whatever you want to call it—that had been an entirely new experience for him. That was the best part.

"Glad to hear it," Simon said. "What'd you do? Turn up at her house in the middle of the night?"

"Pretty much. I went over and apologized after I'd left the hospital." He paused for a moment. "But, it was actually more interesting when she turned up here in the middle of the night after she'd gone and snuck out of her house."

An impressed little smile played at the corner of Simon's lips. "Nice."

"Yep." Ted smiled and looked away. It wasn't as if he wasn't going to come out and admit to what had happened next, but if Simon were to figure it out on his own, he wasn't doing deny it either. Of course, making a rather blatant attempt at goading Simon into guessing wasn't exactly making things difficult.

"Why do I think there's more to this?" he asked.

Ted shrugged, but continued to smile. "I don't know."

The two stared back and forth at one another for a long moment. Ted continued to smile while silently attempting to will Simon into realizing what he was hinting at; Simon sat there staring blankly back at him, as if purposely trying to think about what he was missing in this exchange. It took over a minute of these back and forth looks and gestures for something to finally seem to click in Simon's mind. When it did, his expression turned obvious.

"Ohhhhhh…" He laughed. "You son of a…"

"What?" Ted asked, though he was now laughing too.

"It's about time," Simon said, standing from the sofa again. "Damn, Ted. You went from being in a complete shit position with her to being in a…" he grinned, "well, a clearly not-so-shit position with her. At least, I'd hope it was not-so-shit."

Ted smiled, leaning comfortably back into his chair. "Yeah, definitely not."

"I should have figured that out sooner," Simon muttered. "You've had that shit-eating grin on your face ever since I walked in. Here you are talking about ending up in the hospital like you've gone on holiday or something, and for someone who was so roughed up in a pub fight, it would have _had to_ have taken getting laid to make you so damn chipper this morning."

"It was a great night," Ted said, yawning lazily.

"You know," said Simon, "if this were two, three years ago, I would hate you right now."

"But it's not," said Ted, standing up him from his own chair to walk over and pat Simon on the shoulder. "Instead, it's today. And you're getting married."

"I am getting married." He checked his watch. "And in ten hours time." He looked back at Ted. "You ready for a wedding?"

"The more important question is, are _you_ ready for _your_ wedding?"

Simon shrugged and smiled. "Ready or not, here I come."

* * *

It was a pillow to the head that woke Victoire up that morning. When she opened her eyes, a blurry mixture of sunlight and the figure of Whit sat before her. Only one of those two things was staring back at her, though; she was fairly confident that the sunlight hasn' t been what has just chucked a pillow at her.

"You're still here," Whit said, sitting up on her camp bed as she pulled her messy bed hair back into a ponytail

Victoire groaned and turned over onto her stomach, immediately fighting the urge to fall back asleep. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

"Is that all?" she asked, reaching out to grab the pillow that Whit had thrown at her to pull underneath her, hugging it against her body. "Wake me in an hour."

Whit threw another pillow at her. "I thought you were going to wake-up at the crack of dawn to go over to Ted's?"

Victoire laughed into her pillow, suddenly remembering the events of the previous night. Her first attempt at sneaking in and out of her house had been a complete success, what with everyone still fast asleep once she returned home in the early morning hours. Having things work out as well as they did certainly didn't curtail her desire to want to do it again in the future, especially considering that last night was first time she and Ted had gotten any real time together since their relationship was exposed. Their first time alone in months, and it had turned out to be an unbelievable evening. So unbelievable, in fact, that the only good thing about being awake now was that she could more easily recall the details of last night back in her head.

"You were just so concerned last night that I thought you would have rushed out here the first chance you got," said Whit, looking rather confused by Victoire's lack of interest.

Victoire picked her head up off the pillow. "I have a confession." Her hair haphazardly fell into her face, but she he took a deep breath and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "I snuck out of here last night and went over to Ted's."

Whit stared at her.

"I couldn't sleep and I was worried. So, at about three in the morning, I snuck out of the house, went down the stairs, out the kitchen door, and Apparated over there."

Whit jaw slowly started to drop. "You snuck—!"

Victoire immediately bolted upright and made a hushing gesture with her hand. "Keep it down," she whispered. "You never know who's walking by my door!" She slowly began to smile. "But, yeah. I did."

"But how did you…?" She lowered her own voice down to a whisper. "How long were you there for?"

"Until just before six," she said, a tired smile now replacing the smile she had mustered before. "I was really pushing it since I know my mum likes to get up around six sometimes to take care of things, but when I got back, everyone was still asleep." She released a sigh of relief. "That was my one mistake. I really shouldn't have let get that close, but it was just so hard to leave."

Whit was now grinning from ear to ear. She had sudden excited energy about her, as if she someone how felt privy to some exclusive information. "That's so…"

"Not me," Victoire said, finishing for her. "I know, but I just couldn't sleep. I had to know he made it home okay."

"And he obviously did," Whit said. "He was okay when you got there?"

She nodded, yawned, and plopped back down onto her back. "Yeah, perfectly fine. By the time I got there, most of the potions had taken and restored his and his energy level." She took a deep breath before she threw Whit a very particular grin. "And we needed that energy."

"For what…exactly?" Whit began, though, given her tone, she had already answered her question before she'd even finished speaking. "Wait, you…?"

Victoire nodded.

"I knew it!" Whit said loudly, bouncing a little on the camp bed. "As soon as you said—!"

Victoire reached behind her and threw a pillow back at Whit's head. "Would you lower your voice!"

"As soon as you said," she repeated, her voice lowered as she ducked out of the way of the flying pillow, "that you were there for a few hours, I just knew you were going to tell me that. I knew it."

Victoire could feel her face pinken slightly. "Yeah, we did it."

"And?!"

"And…I don't know," Victoire said sheepishly, feeling oddly strange about sharing the details. In part, they were private, but another part of her really, really wanted to get feedback on what had happened; especially considering that she was now running techniques and maneuvers over and over again in her head.

"Did it hurt?"

Victoire immediately picked her head up off the pillow and looked Whit dead in the eyes. "When he first...." She made a pained face. "But it only lasted for a little bit then it was just sort of trying to get used to the feeling of him being inside me. That's the part I need to get used to." She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. "I'm still a little sore."

"That's normal," Whit said. "I was sore for a couple days, but it goes away. But anyway, did you like it? Was it what you thought it would be?"

"As far as the act itself goes, I can see how it'll get better," Victoire said thoughtfully, "you know, now that the first time is out of the way."

"Right."

"But even with things being initially awkward, honestly, I don't think it could have been any better."

Whit smiled. "Really?"

"Ted was just…" she looked away and up at the ceiling. "I don't know, but I was barely even nervous. He was so patient with everything. He kept making sure I was okay and he was so unbelievably sexy while he was doing his…" she paused, searching for the right word, but not finding it, "thing. It all felt so right. Not to mention the way he just..." She trailed off, holding back on specifically mentioning that the way he had looked at her made her fell as if everything that mattered in the world had existed in that moment. She wanted to keep to keep that part private. "Anyway, afterward we just sort of laid there talking so that I wouldn't fall asleep, because I couldn't fall asleep. It was..." She smiled. "Great. That's the best way I can describe it."

"That's brilliant," said Whit, her smile now unbearably sappy. "Honestly, I'm just happy it was a good experience for you." She suddenly rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'll get so lucky on my second time. Not that Jack was awful or anything, but all of that sexy, sweet emotional stuff you mentioned, it just wasn't there. It was just...technical."

"I almost can't believe last night even happened," Victoire said, now sitting herself back up. "From him stopping by after the hospital, to me sneaking out, to spending hours over there last night. It all seems like a dream."

"Did you ever find out how he ended up in the hospital? Or did you skip all of that and go straight to the shagging?" Whit teased.

Victoire tossed her other pillow at her. "He got caught in the crossfire of a pub fight, you smartarse."

Whit grimaced a little at hearing that, but quickly bounced back to smiling. "And I'm guessing you're all straightened out about going to the wedding?"

"Yeah, but it's not until later," said Victorie lazily. "He's spending his day getting ready, but he mentioned that he was going to try and come by earlier if he had the time."

"Gee, I wonder why…"

Victoire reached down to grab at another pillow to throw at her, but soon realized she had already thrown them all. She instead resigned to simply shrugging her shoulders. "Who am I kidding? I'm probably more ready to go again than he is..."

* * *

Hours later, as afternoon stretched itself into evening, Ted stood over a sink basin in the loo of a small banquet hall splashing water onto his face. He paid careful attention in making sure he kept the water off his dress robes, but quickly looked up into the mirror to check that his hair looked neat. When he saw that it did, he took a step backwards to inspect himself now that he was dressed and ready to go. He forced to himself grin as he observed himself in the mirror, noting that he looked pretty good. That two hour power nap he'd taken earlier had done him wonders considering he didn't look half as exhausted as he had this morning.

He puffed up his checks and exhaled, checking his watch and realizing that he had an hour until the ceremony was set to start. He still had to swing by Victoire's to pick her up, and Simon had made him promise to do a shot of something other than firewhiskey before the big moment was to occur, but other than that, it looked as if he was all set to go. He was ready to watch his best mate get married.

On that thought, he walked to the door and exited the loo, where he started walking back across the small banquet hall. Everything looked as if it had just finished being set up for the ceremony; various wizards were putting the final touches on straightening up chairs into neat rows while others were draping flowers up and down the makeshift aisle. The room wasn't tremendously large, but it was a fair enough size to host the some seventy guests that Simon claimed were coming. What had apparently started out as a small wedding of maybe forty people had grown into, almost overnight, a much larger number. It seemed most of Susan's family _had_ decided to make the trip overseas after claiming they weren't, so several last minute accommodations had to be made.

By the looks of things, however, they had pulled it off flawlessly. Once the ceremony was over, within seconds all the chairs and aisle decorations would disappear, only to be replaced by tables and a dance floor. The reception would follow immediately afterwards, and the guests would barely even have to move. It was that easy. It was almost inexplicable how quickly Susan had managed to pull all of this off, given how little time she had had to plan things. Simon claimed that when she wanted something badly enough, she exhausted every resource to make it work; that was none more obvious than looking around the room and seeing it all really play out.

As he walked, Ted passed a group of women dressed in swanky, brightly colored dress robes that appeared to be early arriving guests. He had no idea who they were, but let his gaze linger for a moment as they proceeded to walk about the hall pointing out various decorations.

He looked away when he came to Simon's dressing area, which he let himself into without knocking. It was there, positioned front and center in the room and fiddling with the dial on a large wireless, Simon stood in his dress robes mumbling obscenities at the device. He was turning the knob back and forth, listening as station after station faded in and out.

"I'm looking for the Wasp's match," Simon said without looking up; answering a question no one had asked.

"I don't think it's started yet," said Ted, taking a nearby vacant chair. "I think it starts at the same time your ceremony does."

Simon hummed. "You'd think I would have planned that better."

Ted grinned. He had to admit he was in far better spirits than he anticipated he would be on this day. Even the humdrum annoyance he usually associated with weddings was oddly missing from the back of his mind. In fact, he was almost—_almost_—excited. Not for the wedding and all of the pomp and circumstance junk, but more to see his friend happily celebrating such a huge step in his life. He was excited to get away from work and enjoy himself. He was excited that he and Victoire weren't arguing and that he could enjoy his night with her. He was excited that his hand had finally stopped hurting…

"Anyone out there yet?" asked Simon, giving up on the wireless.

"I think a few people are," Ted said, nodding back towards the door. "I saw some ladies dressed up in pink and purple robes and looking like they were here for a wedding. Then there are people still setting things up."

"No, Susan, though?"

"Didn't see her."

"She said she'd get here around now," Simon said, his knee now bouncing up and down in an anxious fashion. "I just didn't know if you'd seen her."

Ted shook his head and checked his watch again. "It's still really early, though—"

The door to the room opened again at that moment, and in walked two blonde-haired men that Ted recognized as Simon's cousins from the stag night before. They had been the ones who so closely resembled Simon that it was fairly obvious to anyone who looked at them that they had to all be related one way or another.

"Hey, Simon," said the bigger of the two men, whose name Ted couldn't remember. "Your mum's out there with your sisters."

"Yeah," said the other cousin, "they wanted to see if they could come in. I suppose they want to talk to you."

Simon groaned before he looked at Ted. "Great. I already know they're going to come in here and lecture me on how to stand while I'm up there." He made his tone sharp, as if he was poorly imitating some woman. "Make sure you stand up straight and don't slouch. Don't mumble. You always mumble when you're nervous." His voice faded back to normal. "Blah, blah, blah…"

"You do mumble when you're nervous," Ted offered.

"I'm going to get enough shit from them," he muttered, gesturing to the invisible women in the room. "I don't need to hear it from you, too."

"I was just agreeing," Ted said, forcing himself to stand. "Trust me, if you want to mumble, I couldn't care less."

"See, now that's why you're my best man."

Ted snorted a laugh as he took two steps towards the door. "I'll give you some time with your mum and your sisters. I have to go pick up Vic anyway."

Simon grinned. "So, should I expect you back in ten minutes or right before the ceremony?"

"Why would I take that long?"

"I didn't know if you were making a quick stop." He threw him an obvious look. "You know. Round two? You know damn well that once you start…"

Ted shrugged. "I think I can manage a couple of hours without...." he checked his watch, "wait, you think we have enough time?"

"No idea," he checked his own watch, "but if you're late because you're too busy shagging, I will kill you." He turned back to the wireless. "And that's a promise, Lupin."

Ted smirked as he grabbed the door. "Got it."

It was then that he Apparated on the spot, landing moments later on the ever so familiar front lawn of the Weasleys' house. It was cloudy and cold on this New Year's Eve, but it wasn't until the blustery sea wind nearly blew Ted over that he remembered he wasn't wearing a cloak at all. He still wasn't sure where he had left his in the chaos of last night, but if he had to guess, it was probably somewhere at the Dragon's Breath—if not lost forever. He'd most likely have to buy a new one, which was a rather depressing thought. He'd loved that cloak.

He made his way up the lawn, pushing himself against the wind and only slowing his stride once he drew closer to the house and noticed three people out on the porch. He settled his gaze on the group, noticing that it Dominique who was leaning up against the front of the house and facing his direction. In front of her, his back to Ted, Louis was sitting up on the porch railing; next to him, also turned to face Dominique, was a girl that Ted didn't recognize until she turned around and he caught face….but she didn't do that until after Dominique yelled out to him.

"What do we have here?" Dominique called, laughing as she said it. "Look at you looking posh and sophisticated."

Both Louis and the girl turned see what she was talking about, and Ted immediately saw that it was Louis's girlfriend, Sarah, standing with them. They both grinned as he approached, though only Louis made a point of wolf-whistling.

Ted begrudged a modest smile as he climbed the porch steps to where they were standing. "Funny," he said sarcastically.

"I didn't know you even had it in you, Ted," said Louis, still looking amused.

"I'm a little disappointed," said Dominique, crossing her arms across her chest. "I prefer the scruffy look. I hate when people are too polished. We had that in common, Ted."

"Don't think this is permanent," he said, pulling a quick face. "This is just for today."

"Until Vic sees you and gets ideas," Louis joked, hopping off the railing and walking towards the door. "Hold on, I'll see if she's ready."

"I doubt it," Dominique said, watching as Louis disappeared inside. "She only started getting ready fifteen hours ago, so she's still got about fourteen to go until she's _perfect_."

"She's already pretty perfect," Ted quipped.

Sarah aww'ed as Dominique's eyes rolled so far back into her, they practically disappeared; not that Ted would suspect anything less. He knew that he probably shouldn't enjoy making her squirm as much as he did, but he did. Given that she was so rarely fazed by anything, it was rather funny.

"She's in the kitchen," Louis said as he reappeared back outside. "She said it's too cold out, so you need to come inside. Believe it or not though, she's ready to go."

"No…" said Dominique.

"I know," said Louis, pretending to be shocked.

"Excellent," said Ted without a moment's hesitation.

He sidestepped his way around Louis to enter the house, where he cast a quick look around and immediately set his sights on the kitchen. It was there that Victoire stood leaning against the counter chewing on the end of a carrot and laughing at something he mother was saying. Ted really only had a second to see her before she noticed he was there, but she looked flat out, one-hundred percent, no-other-word-for-it stunning standing there. Everything about her…he didn't even…he couldn't even…he blinked. He had no idea what to say. He'd seen her dressed up exactly like this—her hair done impeccably, her makeup effortless, her powder blue dress robes looking as if she should make a point of living in them because they fit so well—countless times in the past, but not since they'd gotten together. At least he'd never noticed it like this before.

Both Victoire and Fleur looked over at the same time, and in an identical manner. Fleur's eyes went a little wide with surprise at first, but a smile crawled across her face before she looked over at her daughter. Victoire had gaped ever so slightly, but still enough that the carrot she'd been chewing on fell to the counter top.

"Well, don't you look 'andsome," said Fleur.

"You look better than handsome," Victoire muttered, looking him up in and down in a way that Ted was almost surprised to see she was doing with her mum in the room.

"Thanks," he said, feeling a little self conscious with all the compliments, but smiling regardless. "But forget about me, you look fantastic."

Victoire smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but her mother cut her off before she could get a word out.

"I need to take a picture," Fleur announced.

"Mum…" Victoire said in slight protest.

"No, I must," she said, bustling out of the room in what Ted could only assume was in search of a camera. "Do not move!"

"_Do not move_," Victoire mimicked, throwing on a French accent for good measure. She threw Ted a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged before walking over to lean on the counter space directly next to her. "I don't mind. I need some recent pictures of us anyway." He lowered his voice. "By the way, you look really, really hot."

She laughed. "This is nothing, but have _you_ looked in the mirror?" She looked him up and down. "I'm almost ready to say the hell with the wedding and instead spend the night..." She trailed off, but threw him an obvious looked.

"Don't think I'm not trying to figure out how much time I would need to take you back to my place, go to town on you, and then still make it on time for the ceremony," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening.

She laughed again. "It's probably best not to risk it," she whispered. "Plus," she looked over her shoulder to check if anyone was there, "there's always after."

"Oh, there will most definitely be an after," he said matter-of-factly, just as Fleur reentered the room holding a camera and flourishing it for all to see. This time however, Bill Weasley had trailed in after, his eyes now absorbing the scene before him.

"Are zey not sweet?" asked Fleur, now fiddling with the flash button on her camera.

Bill nodded absently before he slowly crossed his arms in front of him. "You look very pretty, sweetheart."

Victoire smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

He glanced at Ted and nodded. "Ted. How are you?"

"Doing well," he said, nodding as well and secretly hoping Bill couldn't somehow read his thoughts; especially given that the one's he'd just been having about his daughter would probably warrant him being cursed senseless.

"So, your friend's getting married?" Bill asked casually.

Ted continued to nod. "Yeah. It's a big night."

"And you're the best man?"

Ted didn't stop nodding, though Victoire added, "That he is."

"And how late do you plan on staying out?"

"Until the wedding is over," Victoire said obviously.

"Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out, Vic."

Victoire looked up at Ted for an answer, though he wasn't entirely sure what to say. It was New Year's Eve, so he had hoped _at least_ until midnight…

"It iz New Year's Eve," Fleur said, as if reading Ted's mind. It suddenly made him wonder if he was worried about the wrong parent reading his thoughts. "Zey will probably be out until after midnight."

Bill looked at his wife strangely, as if he had never expected those words to so casually come out of her mouth.

"So…" Victoire said tentatively, glancing from parent to parent. "How late is 'after midnight' exactly?"

Fleur was shaking her camera to somehow make it work, which in turn made the flash go off. "I do not know. Bill, what do you zink?"

"12:01."

"Dad…" Victoire muttered, looking up at Ted for support.

Ted looked straight down at the ground. He wasn't about to get in the middle of this.

"Midnight is already too late," Bill said. "Your curfew is eleven-thirty."

"That was when I was seventeen," she said quickly. "I'm eighteen now. I think I should get an extension. After all, I'll be done with school soon. In less than a year from now, I'll be living on my own."

"I zink for tonight we can give her some leeway," said Fleur as she held up the camera. She had apparently fixed whatever was wrong with it and was now poised to take a photo.

"How much leeway?" Victoire asked.

"Vic, you're obviously fishing for a number here," said Bill, his arms still across his chest. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me what you're hoping we'll say."

She glanced at Ted, who covertly held up one finger under the countertop and out of her parents' line of sight. Victoire chanced a glance down at it before looking back at her father.

"One-thirty."

Bill actually laughed at that.

"Twelve-zirty," said her mother.

"One-fifteen," Victoire countered.

"How did this turn into a negotiation?" asked Bill.

"Twelve-forty-five," said Fleur.

"Well, at this rate," said Victoire, "logically the number that will make everyone happy is one o'clock. How about that?"

Bill laughed again. "There's no way…"

"She iz wiz Teddy, Bill," said Fleur, still holding the camera up and looking as if she was more than ready to take this photo. "Zey are going to a wedding, it iz New Years Eve, it iz a celebratory night. Victoire knows zis will not be common place."

"I do," Victoire said, agreeing with her mother while staring at her father. "Please, Dad. Don't make me beg."

Ted had to smile at that, considering that sure did sound an awful lot like begging to him. On that very thought, he glanced at Bill, which caused the smile he had mustered to fall off his face. The way Bill was staring back at him made him think that Fleur's words of "_She is with Teddy…"_ weren't exactly as reassuring as Ted would have liked them to be.

"Move closer togezur," Fleur said, gesturing to the two of them while still posing her camera at alert. "I would like to take zis photo sometime today."

Victoire did as her mother asked and took a step towards Ted, throwing him a quick smile before turning it onto her mother and her camera. Ted reached out to put his arm around her, but sensing her father's stare, he hesitated before actually touching her. He began to lower his arm back down when Fleur held up her own arm as if to signal him to stop.

"Zat was cute! Put it back!"

"Oh, jeez," came Dominique's voice from somewhere. "She's got them taking photos."

Ted put his arm around her, though he didn't bother to look at Bill once he did. It was better this way. If he just pretended he wasn't in the room, it made things a lot easier…

"Alright, on ze count of zree," said Fleur. "One, two, zree!"

The flash went off and nearly blinded Ted; all he could see were starbursts of light and fuzzy little shapes that appeared in front of his eyes every time he blinked. He reached up to rub his eyes, but when he lowered his hand, he noticed Victoire was doing the same.

"You need a new camera, Mum," Victoire muttered, still blinking. "That one is older than I am."

Ted managed to squint at his watch through his hazy, still reeling eyes, but realized right away that they did need to get a move on if they wanted to be early. "We should probably go."

Victoire nodded and looked back at her parents. "Okay, we're going to go. One o'clock, right?"

Bill sighed.

"I zink one'oclock is acceptable," said Fleur. "But absolutely no later. Not even a minute."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Victoire, tugging at Ted's arm sleeve. She was threw him a look that said, "_Let's go before they change their mind"_ and turned straight towards the front door to fetch her cloak.

""Ave fun," said Fleur, following after her daughter to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Enj'oy your party."

"We will," said Victoire, her cloak now tightly pulled around her. She grinned at Ted and gestured for him to lead the way outside. "See you all later."

Ted threw everyone in the room one last small smile, breezing quickly past Bill's watchful gaze as he stepped back out onto the porch area. He'd taken only a few steps before Victoire called after him.

"Did you forget your cloak?"

He turned back to her. "I, um, lost it." He gave her an obvious look, not wanting to mention all the specifics of it all right in front of her family. "Last time I went out."

"Oh…right. Well, aren't you cold?"

He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he was since it wasn't that big of a deal. Unfortunately, his body gave a little shiver at that exactly moment and sold him out to anyone watching.

"Bill, don't you 'ave that old cloak of yours zat you never wear?" asked Fleur, turning back inside of the house.

"Oh, that's okay," Ted said quickly. "I mean, I'll just be outside for a bit anyway, so there's no point in—"

"Don't be silly," said Fleur, just as Bill appeared back in the doorway with a dark colored cloak in his hand. He held it out to Ted.

"Um, thank you," Ted said a little hesitantly, taking it with a polite smile. "I'll be sure to have it back when I bring Victoire home."

"Nah, keep it," Bill said, turning immediately back towards the warmth of his house. "I never wear that one anymore anyway."

"You're sure?" Ted asked, looking down to inspect it. It was a really nice cloak, even if it was a little worn around the edges. He wasn't sure he should take it, though not taking it didn't seem like an option either. Strangely enough, there was something in Bill's gesture that made Ted feel oddly accepted. After all, he could have just sent him out there to freeze his stones off, but the fact that he hadn't was somewhat reassuring.

Bill waved his hand to say he was sure, right as Victoire stepped forward and readied herself to go.

"Where are we headed?" she asked.

"Here," he said before he reached out and took her hand. It was more for the practical purpose of side-along Appartion rather than a gesture of affection, but a very loud, very overenthusiastic 'aww,' courtesy of Dominique echoed from house as soon as he did it. Clearly, everyone was still standing there watching them.

"I cannot wait until you move out," Ted muttered before he Apparated them both then and there, straight back across the country and right within the entrance of the banquet hall he'd been standing in just a short time before.

There were more people here now—mingling about, chatting with each other, and laughing as they greeted friends and family that they were happy to see. The decorating wizards from earlier had completely finished the room now; the colors of navy blue and gold cascaded from the walls and wrapped themselves around the room, only to be accented by the white and yellow flowers. The alter spot was set, the chairs were set, the aisle was set—everything was set. All they needed now were a bride and groom to get this thing started.

"It looks so lovely," Victoire said, still holding Ted's hand and she took a few steps forward to look around. "I can't believe Simon's actually getting married."

Ted nodded a little. "Yeah, it's nice."

She turned back to him and smiled. "This all making you feel a little queasy?" She gestured around the room. "The decorations, the people, the spectacle of it all. It's like your worst nightmare."

"It's not my worst nightmare," he said, playfully pulling her arm back towards him to allow her to fall right into him. "Weddings are stupid, but they can be nice."

"I like weddings," she said, still soaking up the atmosphere of their surroundings, "which means if we ever decided to," she gestured around the room, "do this, we might run into an issue."

"_If _being the keyword," he joked.

She swatted him and took a step back, her eyes already inspecting a nearby bouquet of flowers. "Whatever," she joked. "I don't want to marry you anyway."

Ted laughed a little. "Okay. But if you did, just know it would be down at the Ministry. Quick in and out."

Victoire turned her sights back on him, her eyes looking almost challenged at that remark. "Oh, you think so?"

"No, I know so."

She laughed almost patronizingly, but stepped right back up to him. She looked as if she was about to kiss him, her face inches away from his, and he anticipated the touching of their lips, but she merely lowered her voice and whispered, "We'll see about that."

She pulled away and did an almost ballerina-like spin on the spot, throwing him a playful smile before she turned and took a few steps away towards, what looked like, a ledger for guests to sign in on. Ted didn't even attempt to hide his laughter, though he followed her over and watched as she signed both of their names to the book.

"So, where exactly do you need to be?" Victoire asked once she'd finished signing, now taking his hand back into hers and leading the way through the small crowds of guests that were still milling around chatting.

"I'm going to go and find Simon in a minute," he said, using his free hand to point in the direction of where Simon's dressing room was. "I figured I'd look around a bit."

"And I take it you'll be standing just up there, then?" she asked as the two of them approached where the ceremony were to take place; stopping once they reached the start of the aisle. She pointed up toward the alter. "Right up there on the right side."

"I guess so. I'm not really sure where I'm supposed to be."

"Well, if you follow Simon, you can't go wrong," she said, taking a seat in one of the last row of chairs before she continued to scan the room. "I wonder if I know anyone here. I can find someone to sit with while you're off being best man."

Ted took the seat next to her and followed her example by looking around the room. "I'm sure you'll run into someone from school or something. A lot of these people are from the states, but Simon's bound to have invited someone else you know."

She nodded lazily, but stopped when she let her gaze rest directly on him. She began staring at him.

"What?" he asked awkwardly after several seconds had passed and she was still watching him. Did he have something on his face?

She smiled slowly. "It's nothing." She turned away and sighed. "Anyway, I can't believe my parents are letting me stay out until one. I'm actually shocked that worked."

"Yeah," Ted said. "But I'm glad it did. Who would have thought your mum would be the one to come through?"

"I can't even believe the turnabout in her," she said. "Maybe she just gets that I'm at an age where I'm supposed to be more independent. Obviously, if they keep trying to put kid rules on me, I'm going to work my way around them. I mean, look at last night."

Ted smiled.

"I was talking about the sneaking out," she said, poking him in the side before letting her hand drop to his leg. "But, I'm sure sneaking out to do what we did is right up there on my parents' list of why they make my curfew so early in the first place."

"I really enjoyed last night," said Ted, his tone earnest. "I know that's weird to say considering everything that happen to me, but when I think about it, I only think about you and me and…" He smiled. "I'd do it all over again—the pub fight, the hand, the hospital—if it meant we could have the same night that we did."

An uncharacteristically bashful smile crossed Victoire's face as she met his eyes. "I enjoyed it, too. But, I'd still rather you not go through all of that again." She looked up at him, "Still, it was pretty special."

He stared at her for a second. "Yeah?"

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him quickly. "We'll have to keep at it."

"That we will," he said, just as he noticed someone appear out of the corner of his eye to take the chair next to him. This was especially odd considering that the rows and rows around them were scarcely filled, leaving ample places to sit; whoever it was who'd just taken this seat had to have done it on purpose. When he turned to look, he noticed that it wasn't just one person, but two, though he only recognized the one sitting directly next to him.

"Hello," said a voice that belonged to a girl who proceeded to grin back at Ted. She had light brown hair, a friendly smile, and an increasingly cheerful disposition about her. "I don't know if you remember, but I'm Susan's friend—"

"Rachael," Ted said, surprised that he did actually remember her name since he was usually so terrible with them. "No, of course, I remember you. From the World Cup."

Rachael's eyes brightened at the recognition. "How have you been, Ted? Rumor has it you're the best man around here."

"The rumors are true."

"I assumed as much," she said. "Looks like we'll be teaming up since there's another rumor floating around that I just might be the maid of honor." She made a point of showing off the navy blue dress robes she was wearing.

"Is that so?"

"It is."

Ted laughed. "How have you been?"

She shrugged. "Same old, same old. Not too much has changed since August." She turned and nodded towards the woman sitting next to her. "Well," she smiled, "a few things have changed. "

Ted smiled politely at Rachael's companion, though quickly looked back at her. "Yeah, last I remember," said Ted, "you were trying to work out how to tell Susan about how you…" He made an obvious face, not sure if he should exactly announce details of her sexuality for anyone to hear.

"Ah, that right," she said, nodding. "I hadn't told Susan about that back then, had I?"

"But it seems you have now."

"Oh, yeah," she said, smiling back at the woman next to her. "She's well aware." She looked back at Ted. "And she took the news pretty well, if the whole maid of honor thing didn't clue you in already."

"Well, that's good to hear," Ted said, glancing over at Victoire and realizing he should probably remember his manners and introduce her.

"Though, can you believe those two are having a kid?" Rachael said before Ted could speak. "I think I pissed myself when Sue told me about—" She trailed off awkwardly once she looked at Victoire, who was watching the entire conversation curiously. "And here I am talking like a sailor around people I barely now." She reached out her hand to Victoire. "You look familiar, so we may have met before. But just in case I'm crazy and making that up, I'm Rachael. Susan's my best friend."

"Hi," Victoire said, taking her hand to shake. "I'm Victoire."

"This is my girlfriend," Ted offered.

Rachael looked back and forth between Ted and Victoire several times before settling lastly on Ted. She started to smile. "I know why I know her…She's the one from the World Cup. The one you kept talking about, right?"

"Yeah," Ted said, glancing back at Victoire to throw her a quick smile. "Same one."

"Well, I'm glad that worked out for you," she said, her smile sincere. "How cute is that?" She immediately gestured to the woman sitting beside her. "But since we're doing introductions, let me stop being rude and introduce my friend. This is Caroline."

The woman beside her with the blonde hair and glasses sat forward and threw a quick smile to the both of them. She seemed a little timid and shy, but that may have only been in comparison to Rachael's gregariousness. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," said Ted, glancing at Rachael. "Are you two…?"

"Yeah, it's sort of new," Rachael said. "We don't really believe in labels, so the whole," she made air quote with her fingers, "'girlfriend' deal just isn't our thing." She glanced awkwardly from Victoire to Ted. "Not that I have anything against people who do use labels, like yourselves. I mean, that's cool…"

"There you are," said Simon, who had appeared behind the group of them before rapping Ted on his shoulder. "I was wondering if you were back yet."

"Saved by the groom," said Rachael, smiling up at Simon. "Thanks Simon, I was starting to put my foot in my mouth."

"Well, that's not a very good place for it, is it?" he asked, turning back to Ted. "For I second I thought you had managed to fit in a quick sha—" He stopped and looked at Victoire, as if just noticing she was there. He plastered an awkward smile across his face. "Hey, Vicki. Long time no see. You look lovely."

Victoire immediately looked from Simon to Ted—who had already averted eyes back onto Simon—and then back to Simon again, all while making a point of rolling her eyes. She stood up to give Simon a hug. "Thank you. You look very, very handsome."

"Because I _am_ very handsome," he joked before he turned and nudged Rachael. "How's Sue doing?"

"Ready to get married," she said. "Just like I hope you are."

"I'm ready for the party," Simon said with a nervous laugh. "Speaking of which," he looked at Ted. "You owe me a shot, mate. Let's get to it. I need something to calm my nerves."

Ted nodded and reached over rub Victoire's knee before he stood. "I'll see you in a little bit."

"Have fun," she said, tugging at the front of his robes and pulling him down to kiss her. "I'll be around here somewhere. Just come find me."

"You know, that's still weird to see…" said Simon, nodding towards pair of them.

"But at least your head didn't explode," Victoire teased.

Ted smiled at her before he turned and gave Simon a quick shake at the shoulders. "Let's go get you married."

"Yeah, let's…" he said, turning to follow after Ted in the direction of where the dressing room was. As they walked, several people smiled and waved at Simon. They were throwing him words of encouragement and wishes of good luck; all with happy, jovial faces. Ted had to admit, there was a really great energy about the room that even made him want put his reservations against weddings aside and just run with the moment. He had a feeling that this was going to be a good day. No, this was going to be a _very_ good day.

"Oh," Simon said, just as they reached the dressing room and pushed open the door to walk inside. "Shit, I forgot to tell you something."

"Me?" Ted asked, noticing that Simon's two cousins were already present in the room, both ready with a bottle of some sort of alcohol in their hand. The older of the two was already pouring liquid into shot glasses, one of which he proceeded to hand it to Simon.

"It's not a big deal," Simon continued, taking a shot was now being handed to him, "but I figured you'd probably want some warning, what with Victoire here and all."

"Warning?"

Simon wasn't looking him in the eye; he was purposely looking at his cousins as he waited for them to finish pouring. "I work this guy named Tim. Nice bloke, you'd like him. He's really funny. Couldn't come out to the party last night, but he's a great guy."

Ted stared at him. "Okay…" What did this have to do with anything?

"Well, Sue and I of course invited him since he is a friend," he continued. "We invited him plus one, actually."

"Let's toast, shall we?" offered the younger cousin who raised his glass in air.

"And it turns out," Simon continued, following his cousin's lead and raising his glass in the air, "and I just found this out yesterday, but he invited a friend of his to be his date because she knows me and Susan, and well…" He looked back at Ted. "Fuck it, I'm just going to say it. Celia might turn up. Thought you ought to know."

Ted's eyes went so wide, he could all but feel his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. Did Simon just say what he thought he said? There was no possible way that he and Susan would have…They wouldn't have…They just wouldn't have…This wasn't…He _had_ to be kidding.

"To eternal happiness," said the older cousin, ignoring all else in the room.

"To wealth, to prosperity, to undying love," said the younger one. "Yeah, that sounds good, right? What else is there to toast to?"

"To, you've got to be shitting me," Ted said, glaring at Simon.

"Cheers," Simon offered, tipping his glass immediately back and draining it all to the last drop.


	39. The Wedding

For a wedding planned on such short notice, Victoire couldn't help but be completely floored with how lovely and effortless everything had turned out to look. The ceremony had been so simple, so quick. Everything had such a quaint, heartfelt quality about it that Victoire—who would never claim not to be a crier—had actually teared up twice. The first time had been when Susan, who had an incredibly beautiful and radiant glow about her, had barely managed to stumbled through her vows after choking up on emotion halfway through. The second had been towards the end of the ceremony, just before the officiant wizard declared them bonded for life. Simon had been standing there, smiling so proudly, so genuinely, that Victoire couldn't help but feel overcome with nostalgia. This was Simon—goofy, funny, rarely serious, do anything for a laugh, Simon. He wasn't supposed to be all grown up and serious. He was supposed to be guy doing silly dances and pulling funny faces to make her laugh. He was supposed to be cracking jokes on Ted, or—these days—her and Ted. He wasn't supposed to be standing up there like a grown man taking this very big step. That wasn't allowed.

But yet there he stood doing just that. Good old Simon. The first new person Victoire had ever met at school, the first boy she'd ever known to have a crush on her, one of the few people in her life that she couldn't remember ever being mad or even annoyed with—not even for a second, which was an exceptional feat considering she'd known him for so long—and one of the few truly good people she could claim to know. It was an honor to simply be here witnessing this moment in his life.

To overcompensate for the fact Victoire felt like she could cry every time she looked at Simon, she continuously kept glancing at Ted; watching as he stood there right at Simon's side. He looked adorably handsome, though Victoire could tell he was trying his damndest to pay attention to what the officiant wizard was saying. She also noticed that every time Ted glanced at Simon or Susan, he would crack a smile, but when he wasn't looking at them, he looked like he was counting the seconds until everything was over. It wasn't something anyone would notice unless you knew him as she did, but at least he was putting on one hell of a brave face for Simon and Susan's benefit.

Watching all of this, the specialness of the moment and the uninhibited emotion, it would be silly to say that it didn't make Victoire ponder what her own wedding day would look like. She couldn't help it. Her mind just went to a place where she pictured what she would wear, how she would decorate things, who she would invite. She thought of things she would do differently, or made a mental note on ideas she liked. She contemplated who she would be standing up there next to one day…

Her eyes drifted back to Ted. If it were him, there may not be and 'up there' to stand next to if he had his 'quick, one trip to the Ministry' way. All of those plans, those ideas, those dreams she'd been nursing since she was a little girl who had stolen ideas from her parents' photo album and her aunts and uncles' ceremonies…all of that may never make even make it to fruition. All of those ideas may remain just that—ideas.

She frowned slightly at the thought of that possibility, but quickly had to ask herself why she was so sure it was Ted she was supposed marry anyway? Maybe all of these thoughts of not having a real wedding were a non issue? Maybe she'd still get her ceremony while he got his Ministry wedding, only there'd be two completely different people standing beside them…

Something inside of her twitched. She didn't want to picture some other guy. That didn't feel right at all.

However, she didn't have much time to dwell on the matter further because in the next moment, stars had shot from the wizard's wand and people were now on their feet, cheering and clapping. As Victoire followed the crowd's lead and stood, she watched as the new happy couple walked straight back down the aisle and out of sight, only to be followed by the rest of their wedding party. That was that. The ceremony was over. Simon was married.

"That was sweet," said Caroline, who Victoire had found herself sitting next to through the ceremony after getting somewhat acquainted once Ted had left.

Victoire smiled and nodded, just as a group of wizards appeared and whisked all the ceremony decorations away, only to replace them with a much more casual, much more relaxed party setting. Tables and a dance floor were now flying into place while flowers and decorations from the ceremony were now rearranging themselves to accommodate the new layout. Food and drink stations had suddenly appeared, and within seconds of it all, music began playing from somewhere within the room. Victoire hadn't even noticed the band come in.

"This is fantastic," said Caroline, sounding rather awestruck. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

"That's definitely one of the quickest switches I've seen pulled at a wedding," Victoire said, making her way to the nearest table to take a seat, where plates and goblets were already setting themselves at every place setting. "They usually take a bit longer."

"This is the first wizard wedding I've ever been to," said Caroline, taking the seat beside Victoire. "I'm a Muggleborn, so I'm not used to this. Muggle weddings are a little different."

"I can only imagine," said Victoire, noticing as people were already beginning to throw themselves into the festivities by helping themselves to snacks and hors d'oeuvres at the stations around the room. "I haven't been to a lot of weddings recently, but I have a really big family, so I went to a lot as a kid. Most magical weddings are fairly similar."

"Yeah, that's what Rachael was saying," she said, searching the room at the mere mention of her name. "I wonder where they went off to."

Victoire followed suit and looked around the room. "To take pictures, I think."

Caroline nodded and looked back at her. "I suppose we just get to wait."

"I guess it's the perk of coming with someone in the wedding party," she said, still searching the room for any possible familiar faces that she hadn't yet noticed.

"So," Caroline asked, clearly attempting to initiate in small talk. "How long have you and your boyfriend known each other?"

"Oh, well," Victoire laughed a little, "we've know each other for a very long time, but, um, we've only been together a few months. Since August."

"You were friends first?"

"Best friends," she said with a resolute nod, "ever since we were very small. All of those weddings I was just telling you about, I can actually remember dancing with him at them when we were all of five-years-old." She paused thoughtfully. "Well, he would have been six or seven."

Caroline laughed. "That's sweet. You really have known each other a long time."

Victoire smiled and let herself lean back more comfortably into her chair. "It's been a long trip for the two of us."

"But those are the most fun stories to tell," Caroline said as she rested her elbow leisurely onto the table. "Much sweeter than telling someone you met at a bar."

"True," Victoire said. "It's certainly better than that."

"Rachael and I met at one of those," Caroline added, "in case you were wondering."

"Oh," said Victoire quickly, immediately regretting what she had just said. "I didn't mean…"

Caroline waved her hand as if it wasn't a big deal. "Trust me, I know how cliché it sounds."

"How long have you two…?"

"Not long," she said, watching as several people around them all stood to go and help themselves to snacks and drinks. "Couple of months. When she asked me to come with her to this," she gestured around the room, "her best friend's wedding—that was a pretty big step since it's a pretty long trip over here from Boston. She wanted me to meet Susan, though. She thought this was the best place to do it."

"Susan's great," Victoire said, smiling. "I really couldn't be happier for Simon."

"Yeah," Caroline agreed. "I haven't really talked to Simon much, given that we just got into town and they've been really busy, but Susan's a sweetheart. She and Rachael go way back—almost as long as you and your boyfriend, I'd guess." She shook her head in slight disbelief. "I moved around a lot as a kid, so it wasn't even until I got to school that I had the same group of people around me for more than months at a time. The concept of these lifelong friends is crazy to me."

"Oh, well, Ted's really the only one," Victoire said, sitting up straighter. "I don't have a legion of them or anything. Truth be told, most of the friends I've had have come and gone in waves throughout my life." She made a face as she thought about the past several years. "But that's a good thing…"

"I think we've all had _those_ kinds of friends," Caroline muttered. "I had a group at school, there were four of us and we were always so close until about our final year. That was when I started to come to terms with the fact that," she smirked at little, "well, that I didn't like boys like they did. Anyway, you'd think my best friends would stick by me?" She stopped and sighed sadly. "One of them flipped out immediately, assuming I had some sort of warped crush on her of all people." She rolled her eyes. "Another acted like she was fine with it, but then behind my back got together with the first friend and talked some terribly rude things about me to anyone who would listen. Only my third friend stuck by me, even going so far as to cutting the other two of her life after we graduated. That was all very messy."

"That's horrible," said Victoire, immediately being reminded of Colleen Lynch and Penelope Shears. In fact, as she pictured in her head the girls Caroline had just described, she automatically substituted Colleen and Penelope into the story.

Caroline shrugged. "Better to be rid of them now before I invested any more time into them." She looked away. "But it definitely did suck for awhile there." She looked back at Victoire. "I'm in a better place now, and that friend of mine that stuck by me is still there. The people that matter always find a way of staying in our lives."

Victoire nodded as those words truly sunk in for her. She immediately thought of Ted; of their ups and down and ups and downs. They always did find a way. Finding a way seemed to be what they did best.

"What's your worst friend story?" Caroline asked.

"Mine?" Victoire said, heaving a heavy breath, but laughing all the same. "I just fell into a crowd of bitchy girls who seemed to have a mission to make everyone around them that they didn't like miserable. I guess I was just naïve when I thought that it was somehow good for me to be their friend, but it certainly wasn't. I also never thought they'd turn on me."

"But they did."

Victoire nodded. "Of course. There was this one girl—sort of like the head of all of them—who I was younger than, so I was a bit of a pushover for her because I didn't know any better. I was never mean like her, but I stood back from time to time and just let her get away with treating people horribly. Looking back, I don't know why I didn't stand up to her sooner, but…" She shrugged. "Anyway, when I did start coming into my own and talking back to her, I guess she didn't like it much. She went and exuded her supposed," she used her fingers to make air quotes, "'_power_' to attempt to keep me in line."

"What'd she do?"

"Started a nasty rumor about me and this guy," Victoire muttered. "He was a friend of mine, and I was helping him study for these huge exams we had, so we were spending a lot of time together. Next thing I know, half the school thinks I was giving him a hand job or—who knows what else—in library." She slowly frowned. "There were worse stories out there, but I stopped listening to the rumors after the first lot of them came around."

"Oh, yeah, slut rumors perpetuated by other girls are always a blast," Caroline mumbled.

Victoire smiled a little. "The worst part was that it really couldn't have come at a worst time considering the biggest exams to date of my schooling career were all of two weeks away. Not to mention my then boyfriend and I were already starting to cool off, so those rumors sure didn't help to fix anything."

"Aren't friends like that the best?" Caroline joked. "I wish I had more of them."

Victoire laughed. "They sure are. If I never see them again, it'll be too soon."

"I'll drink to that," Caroline muttered before she suddenly glanced absently at the table. "Well, I would drink to that if I had something to drink." She suddenly pointed across the room, where the food and drink stations were being picked over by other guests. "How about we go and grab something before this crowd clears everything out?"

Victoire turned and followed her finger to where groups of people who had initially attacked the hors d'oeuvres stations were thinning themselves out and returning to their seats. She looked back at Caroline and nodded.

They both stood from the table, pushing their chairs in behind them, and walked over to where a magically contained fire was busy keeping several food items hot so that people could pick through them. There was a lovely fruits and vegetables tray, some meatballs on toothpicks, a cheese platter with various sorts of crackers, some sort of soup boiling in a small cauldron, and little bites of chicken wrapped in bacon. Everything smelled heavenly, and it wasn't until Victoire saw it all that she realized how hungry she was.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," said Caroline, glancing over the spread of food in front of them. "I was trying to wait until dinner was served, but…"

"I'd have at it," Victoire said, grabbing a plate and reaching forward to help herself to cheese and crackers. "At this rate, who knows when dinner is?"

"You know what I've always found odd?"

"What's that?"

"How…well, pretend this was your wedding. You go and spend all of this time and planning to pick all of these foods out," Caroline pointed to the meatballs and then the soup, "but then you're off taking pictures or something and you miss half the stuff you paid for."

Victoire hummed in agreement before moving over to the fruits and vegetables. "You think maybe we should grab some stuff for when they get back? I know Ted loves anything wrapped in bacon…"

"Who doesn't?" Caroline laughed. "Tell you what? I say we load up on everything we can carry, and if you and I don't go through it, then they can have whatever's left over."

"Sounds like a plan," said Victoire, just as the both of them proceeded to load their small appetizer plates up with as much food as they could without looking too ridiculous; leaving little to no room to spare.

"Here," said Caroline after she'd had her fill of the vegetable tray. "Why don't you take this," she handed Victoire her plate, "back to the table and I'll get us something to drink so we both don't have to make the trip over there too. Fair enough?"

"Yeah, okay," Victoire said, taking Caroline's food covered plate and holding it side by side with her own. "That'll probably make things easier."

Caroline nodded and turned towards the bar a moment later, leaving Victoire to stare down at the two very cramped plates in her hands. She knew that they had more than enough to eat, but that didn't stop her from wondering just how many meatballs she could pile on top of one another. Feeling the urge to test whether she could fit just one more, she tried to figure out a way to maneuver her plates around without dropped them when someone suddenly tapped her on the shoulder.

"Well, don't you look pretty."

She turned to see a tall, dark skinned man with reserved eyes, and a small beard smiling back at her. She recognized him immediately. It was Caleb, Ted and Simon's old dorm mate from school. She hadn't seen him in ages; not since—she had to think about that—Ted's graduation party. He looked like he'd grown into a full blown man since then.

"Caleb," she said pleasantly. "Hi." She gestured to the plates in her full hands. "I'd hug you, but…"

His eyes went a little wide as he stared at all the food. "Hungry, then?"

"Oh, this isn't all for me," she laughed. "I couldn't eat this much if I tried. No, it's for a few people."

"You know," he gestured to the food, "you can come up for seconds."

"Really?" she asked, her smile sarcastic. "I had no idea."

Caleb nodded, playing into her sarcasm. "Yeah, it's true. I hear it's the same with the drinks at the bar."

"You don't say…"

He smiled. "How you been, Vicki? I haven't seen you since…"

"Ted's graduation party," she said, finishing for him. "Yeah, it's been ages."

"That's right…" He reached up and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Wow, it really has been ages. I was with Ted yesterday at Simon's stag night. Well, I should say I was with him for bit. He disappeared pretty early in the night."

Victoire laughed as she was reminded of the very reasons for that. "Well, if you get a minute later, you should ask him why he disappeared. It's quite the little story."

"What happened?" he asked, reaching out to grab a plate of his own.

"He'll tell it better than I will," she said. "It's actually rather funny in retrospect…" She trailed off immediately, her eyes settling on a site she hadn't expected to be there; one that had taken her completely, utterly off-guard and made her body give start. At that very moment, on Caleb's other side stood Celia Ward, Ted's ex and causer of misery in Victoire's life for at least a brief period. She was currently busy talking to some man who had approached with her, but she hadn't yet made the connection as Victoire had due to Caleb providing a much welcomed barrier between the two of them. If he so much as stepped forward to grab at a stalk of celery off the table however, everything would be revealed.

Victoire's chest heaved. Celia looked the same as she always had, with the exception that her dark hair was now much longer than the last time Victoire had seen her—which again was at Ted's graduation party. It seemed someone wanted a reunion from that night, but whereas Caleb was a welcomed sight, Celia was anything but. If there was one other person other than Colleen Lynch that Victoire never wanted to see again, it was Celia Ward. She had already spent too many years receiving snooty, disapproving looks courtesy of Celia. She wasn't in any mood to return to that tradition tonight.

"Well," Caleb said, stepping forward to help himself to the chicken bites. "I'm curious to hear this story. Make sure you send Ted in my direction at some point tonight."

The second he had moved, Victoire had held her breath and awaited the inevitable. Sure enough, mere seconds had passed until she now found herself face to face with Celia, who had been standing there, listening to her male companion while seemingly waiting for Caleb to proceed forward. Once he had, she was now looking straight ahead; right through the four feet of open space that stood between her and Victoire. Her face had been blank, but the recognition was instant. She looked about as excited to see Victoire as Victoire was to see her.

"Speaking of Lupin," Caleb continued, carrying on obliviously to everything happening around him. "Where is he?"

"Um," Victoire said, taking her eyes off of Celia to awkwardly look back at Caleb. "Taking photographs, I think. I…don't know."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Caleb said, sounding as though he should have thought of that sooner. "He was pretty funny standing up there next to Simon." He grinned back at Victoire. "I had a laugh when I saw them all dressed up."

"Yeah," Victoire said absently, looking over her shoulder back towards her table. "Definitely funny…"

"You and Ted came together, right?" Caleb asked, stepping forward to grab at the vegetables. "I heard somewhere that the two of you are togeth…"

"Yeah, we did," Victoire said hurriedly, taking a step back and avoiding Celia's gaze. She could still feel her eyes on her, though she wasn't about to check and see if this was actually true. "But, I'm going to go and sit before this—" she nodded towards her plates of food, which she suddenly realized made her look rather stupid for standing here holding, "um, gets cold. But feel free to come over later and we can catch up more. I'd like that."

She caught Caleb staring at her a little curiously, but she didn't wait around any longer to see if he had anything else to say. She immediately turned on the spot and, quick as she could, walked herself back over to where she had been sitting before.

Back at their table already, Caroline was already sitting and sipping at a glass of red wine. She pointed at another glass that was sitting at the table as Victoire approached.

"I took a stab in the dark and got red," she said. "I don't know if that's your thing, but most people drink it, so…"

Victoire placed both plates she'd been holding down on the table to free her hands, and immediately grabbed at the glass closest to her. She didn't drink it right away, but held it in her hand for a long moment before she finally pulled it to her lips and took a large gulp.

"Guess I made a good choice," Caroline said, watching her a little funnily. "You must be thirsty."

"More surprised, actually," Victoire said, still clutching the glass in her hand. "I just had _quite _the surprise."

"Oh yeah?" Caroline asked, now picking through their assortment of food. "What kind of surprise?"

"The bad kind."

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes flashing with intrigue.

"You know how we were talking about former friends that made our lives hell?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"Well, I've got another girl," Victoire said, still clutching her wine glass, "who wasn't my friend at all, but she still made my life hell." She took another sip of wine. "And she's here."

Caroline stopped chewing on whatever it was she had been eating and stared at Victoire. Her face seemed to be asking, _"Really?"_ but she didn't seem to want to say it with her mouth full.

Victoire nodded and stared into her wine glass. "And she's also Ted's ex."

"Uh-oh…" muttered Caroline, swallowing her food. "It's one of _those_ things, huh? Old ex seeing the new girlfriend? That's never fun."

"You'd think it'd be as simple as just that, but no," Victoire said. "No, I don't even know if she knows Ted and I are together, but this all happened way before—"

"Ug, that took too, too long!" said a sudden voice, which was followed by Rachael slumping into the seat next to Caroline. "It was like the photographer wanted to take four-thousand photos of us all doing the exact same damn thing. Even Sue, who is as go-with-the-flow as they come, was getting annoyed." He eyes immediately zeroed in on the assortment of food items. "Oh, what'd we get?"

In that same moment, Victoire felt the chair next to her pull itself out from under the table. She didn't have to look, but she did turn to see Ted taking the seat with a tired smile on his face. "So, how'd I do up there? I didn't look like a complete idiot, did I?"

Victoire stared at him. If he knew Celia was here and didn't tell her…

"Ooh, is that bacon?" he asked once he'd settled himself down. He reached out towards the plate, but Victoire did the same and pulled it out from just under his grasp before he'd had the chance to touch anything.

"Hey…" said Ted, his hand still outstretched.

"You'll never believe who I just saw," she said, now holding the plate just out of his reach.

His expression turned seemingly curious. "Who?"

"You have no idea who I might be talking about?"

He stared at her. "Should I?"

"Ted," she lowered her voice, "if you ever want to do what we did last night again, you'll fess up right now. Did you know Celia was going to be here and just not tell me?"

Instantly, a world of understanding seemed to dawn across Ted's face at hearing that. "I had no idea."

She put the plate back down on the table, though still not within comfortable reach for him. "That's an awfully cool reaction for someone who didn't have any idea."

"I found out just before the ceremony," he muttered, glancing around the room aimlessly. "Trust me, Simon and I had words. He claims he didn't invite her, but she's the date of his friend." He reached up and rubbed his lip quickly. "You ran into her, then?"

She threw him a funny smirk.

"And?"

"We didn't talk," she said, picking up a carrot stick and biting into it. "We just sort of did what we do best and glared at each other."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Ted said, laughing just a little as he reached over her and grabbed at a piece of bacon wrapped chicken. "I figured I'd have enough time to warn you after the ceremony, but I hadn't counted on the photos taking so long."

She stopped chewing on her carrot stick for a moment and stared at him; a smile playing at her mouth, though she wanted to fight the urge. "Sweetheart?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one trying that out," he said, reaching over her once again to grab another piece of bacon wrapped chicken. "These are good."

Victoire tried not to laugh, but as usual when it came to Ted, lost that battle rather quickly. She made the gesture of inching the plate of bacon wrapped goodies back down towards him, and had apparently underestimated just how hungry he was. The second he'd gotten it in front of him, he starting picking item by item off as though they'd disappear if he didn't hurry.

"By the way," she said, still watching him eat, "to answer your earlier question, you did fantastic up there."

"Simon was shaking," Ted said with his mouth full, though he quickly swallowed. "I thought his knees were going to buckle and I was going to have to catch him."

Victoire glanced across the room, finding where Simon and Susan—both with wide smiles on their faces—were talking with a group of people. They both looked so cute and full of life standing there that it made Victoire involuntarily smile.

"Simon did well," she said, narrowing her sights solely on him and grinning even wider the longer she stared at him. "It was a lovely ceremony from where I was sitting. Though, I won't lie." She looked back at Ted and put her hand on his leg. "I was busy checking out the very attractive best man."

"He was attractive, wasn't he?" Ted said while he scanned the plate for something else with meat in it. When he didn't find anything, he frowned and begrudgingly picked up a carrot stick.

"Speaking of that, what else do your best man duties ask of you?"

"I guess I get to make a speech," Ted said, taking a bite of the carrot before discarding the uneaten half back on the plate. "But that's it, really. I mostly get to spend the rest of the night enjoying it. Eat some food, have a few drinks, talk with some friends," he suddenly smiled at her, "be with you…"

"What about dancing?" asked Victoire, her tone laced optimism.

He immediately pulled a doubtful face. "I don't dance. You know that."

"That's not true. I've seen you dance."

"Not in last ten years, you haven't," he said matter-of-factly. "And I only ever did it then because _someone_," he threw her a look, "always guilted me into it."

"So, I just have guilt you into it?" she asked, giving his leg a pat. "That's what you're saying?"

"You can try, but I'm wiser now. I know your tricks."

"That just means I have to come up with better tricks," she said before she let her hand trail up and down his thigh. She turned and smiled at him as she did so.

His face, as if on cue, suddenly went a little blank. "Ohhh…that's just not right."

She smiled wider.

"That's actually evil."

"Tell me to stop."

He laughed skeptically. "I'm definitely not going to do that."

Victoire laughed and rolled her eyes. "Well, at least I know that works."

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'll come to my senses when you stop and I remember how much I _hate_ to dance."

"What if I don't stop?" she asked.

He laughed to himself. "Then it's a win-win for me, isn't it?"

She stopped rubbing his leg and instead pushed him in the shoulder. "You are a brat."

He leaned back towards her and wrapped his arm around her, kissing her forehead quickly. "And yet you love me." He let go of her and stood up from his chair. "I'm going to track down the loo and some more of those chicken bacon things. I'll be back."

"Take your time," Victoire said "I'm going to go find someone who will dance with me."

"Make sure he's good-looking," Ted offered before he turned to walk off, "because that will really make me jealous. If he's ugly, I probably won't care." He threw her a smile over his shoulder, right before he set off across the room.

"Such a brat," Victoire mumbled, laughing to herself as she watched him walk away. He'd barely been gone for all of three seconds though, before both Caroline and Rachael had turned in her direction; their faces were practically bursting with curiosity.

"Now what's this about some ex-girlfriend of his who made your life hell?" Caroline asked.

"One who's here right now?" Rachael added, smiling a little. "Sorry, but we're nosy."

With a funny sort of sigh, Victoire looked around the room and spotted Celia at the clear other end. She was talking with the guy from the food station and a few other people that were sitting around her. "It's a long, annoying story."

"As long as we've got wine," Caroline said, holding up her glass in salute, "we've got plenty of time."

Victoire blinked, as if to say she couldn't argue that, and with a heavy breath thus proceeded to start from the beginning and tell them the entire tale of what had happened between her, Ted, and Celia from those many years ago—the entire story.

At one point, Ted had even returned to bear witness to some of it, only to hear what they were talking about and turn away without a word towards the bar. Apparently, he was in no mood to be reminded of what a dolt he was during those years when he and Celia first got to together, though, when he did return, he did feel the need to remind everyone listening that Victoire wasn't exactly just an innocent bystander in all of this. He emphasized how there was an equal share of mad behavior running about during those months; Celia's just happened to be the most mental of them all.

It was a conversation that led them straight into dinner, which in turn progressed into talks of swapping stories of Susan and Simon through the years. Both Rachael and Ted had attempted to out embarrass each of their best friends respectively, which made for an interesting topic of conversation when Susan and Simon _did_ finally stop by their table. It was then that both bride and groom had the embarrassing pleasure of relieving awkward story after story of their adolescences, courtesy of everyone who had just heard them told. Susan especially cringed when Rachael claimed that she was now trying to work a few of them into her toast for later in the evening.

Luckily for Susan, when Ted and Rachael did stand up to give their toasts, both had been anything but embarrassing. Rachael had actually gotten quite teary-eyed during hers, claiming how beautiful and amazing Susan was a friend, going so far as to echo sentiments Caroline had mentioned earlier about her sticking by her when other people had turned away. She had gone on to say how Susan's future child was going to have the best mother anyone could have ever asked for, and sniffled her way though a weak cheers at the tail end of it all.

It seemed like an impossibly difficult act to follow, or so Victoire thought when she watched Ted step up to make his own toast. While he didn't come close to crying as Rachael had, there was different emotion in his face that you had to know Ted as well as she did—as well as Simon did—to detect it. A part of it was probably nerves given Ted's absolute hatred of public speaking, but it seemed that all of those dragon pox presentations over the past year had apparently taught him a thing or two, because those nerves quickly gave way to genuine sincerity.

His toast was short, sweet, and to the point; recalling the first time he met Susan with Simon, and how Simon had tried to make it seem as though it was all one big coincidence that they had run into each other at some pub. How the usually social and outgoing Simon had turned into a nervous mess, but it had been that reaction that had told Ted that this girl must have been all sorts of special to have that effect on Simon. He finished up by commenting on how Simon was the best friend anyone could have asked for; always putting up with a lot, but then asking for very little in return. He'd even thrown a quick joke in at the end, commenting that the babysitting offer was still—and always would be—good.

It was on his way back to his seat that Ted had practically stared Victoire down with a look that begged to ask, _"Was that okay?"_ She could only beam at him in response. As far as she was concerned, Simon couldn't have asked for anything better from Ted than him letting his guard down for all of three minutes and talking from his heart. Only so many people ever got to experience that side of him.

From there on out, things took a much livelier and less tear-filled turn. The band kicked up and the party got going, and while Ted swore up and down that it would take the Imperius Curse to get him out there dancing, Simon took the opposite approach and danced up a storm with anyone within arm's length. He was out there with Susan, with his mum, with his sisters, with some elderly witch who was actually giving him a run for his money in terms of dance moves. He looked to be having a best time out of anyone there—which of course was only right. Watching him enjoy his own wedding was probably the best sight of all.

Off the dance floor, Victoire's night had mostly been spent chatting with Ted, Rachael, Caroline, and anyone else who breezed in their direction. Caleb had followed through with his earlier plans to check up on Ted's story, and had seemed shocked to hear he was put in the hospital over a pub fight. Several other people that either Ted knew or Rachael knew had filtered in and out, stopping by for a chat after a dance or on their way to the dance floor. Victoire was almost surprised to see how many people Ted knew given that—for someone who always claimed to have only stuck to his small group of friends throughout the years—plenty of people seemed to know exactly who he was.

At one point, one girl in particular—a friend of Rachael and Susan's—had come by to yell at the whole group of them for not going out there to dance, but even with a _told-you-so_ expression courtesy of Victoire, Ted remained resolute. You could not pay him to get onto that dance floor.

"Oh, who needs him?" Rachael said to Victoire. She stood from the table and threw Ted a lofty look once he'd turned down yet another attempt by Victoire to dance. "Just go out there and throw yourself into the group. Dancing with lots of people can be more fun than just dancing with one person. Plus, don't even get me started on how you don't need a boy to have fun…"

Victoire turned to smirk at Ted, who looked fairly taken off guard at that comment. She patted him on the shoulder and kissed his cheek before she stood and followed everyone else out onto the dance floor to have a good time. She liked to dance and have fun at weddings, even if Ted chose not to. He could sit there all night if that's what his plan was, but she was going to have some fun with this.

"Simon can out dance anyone here!" said an out-of-breath Rachael after a half an hour of jumping around on the dance floor.

"It's like he's gone mad," Victoire said, doing her best to catch her own breath as the two girls made their way back to the table. Caroline and several of Rachael's other friends who had joined them had given up about ten minutes earlier and scattered around the room, though Caroline was now relaxing at the table on her own. She smiled at the pair of them as they returned.

"I saw your attempted dance off with Simon," Caroline said, laughing at Rachael. "I think he won."

"Susan's got an energetic one," Rachael muttered, taking a napkin and wiping her brow. "He just doesn't quit."

"That's probably how she got pregnant," Victoire offered, collapsing into her chair.

Both Caroline and Rachael exchanged surprised smiles, but Rachael especially didn't bother to hide a loud, boisterous laugh at that.

"You know, I'm glad we've run into you and Ted," said Rachael, smiling at Victoire. "Even if Ted is a fuddy-duddy party pooper who won't dance, I was worried, what with me having to run around here all night being maid of honor, that Caroline would be bored to tears."

"Yeah, I was so afraid I wouldn't know anyone and I'd get to stare into space all night," Caroline said.

"Yeah, this night has turned out to be better than what I thought," Victoire said, smiling at them both, "especially after the surprise run in from earlier." She glanced around the room, though she didn't see Celia anywhere. She hadn't seen her in awhile, not that she cared because the two seemed to be sticking to their own sides of the room. It seemed she and Celia's unspoken agreement to just split rooms in half and avoid each other was still well intact from their days at school.

"So, where is the fuddy-duddy party pooper anyway?" Rachael asked, looking back at Victoire for an answer.

She shrugged. "Around here somewhere. Not on the dance floor, that's for sure."

"I think he's—" Caroline turned in her chair towards the direction of the bar. "Yup, he's up there. At the bar. I thought I saw him there earlier."

Victoire turned to look, seeing that Ted was in fact leaning up against the bar talking to someone she didn't know, along with Susan, and a very sweaty looking Simon. They all seemed to be sharing some sort of laugh at Simon's expense.

"What time is it?" asked Rachael, though she answered her own question by checking a clock that hung nearby. Her jaw dropped. "I cannot believe it's already eleven-thirty. It'll be midnight soon enough."

"Oh yeah, it's New Year's Eve," said Caroline. "I'd forgotten all about that."

"And we get to celebrate it early this year since we're in Merry Olde England," Rachael said, doing a little dance-like turn on the spot.

"Yeah, it won't be New Year's back home for, what?" She looked back at Rachael. "Five hours?"

Rachael didn't answer her. She had stopped spinning and was now busy looking up at the bar, though she quickly turned her gaze onto Victoire. "It looks like your favorite person in the world has gone and run into Ted. You know, what's-her-name?"

Victoire turned in her chair to look behind her, seeing exactly what she suspected Rachael was referring to. Simon and Susan had disappeared, and sure enough, Celia was standing there now saying something to Ted.

Immediately, Victoire felt herself get hot, and it had nothing to do with having spent the last half and hour dancing. It wasn't an embarrassed or awkward feeling, but rather in an annoyed, sudden flash flood of bad memories sort of feeling. She turned back around in her chair.

"I can't watch that," she muttered.

"Go up there and break it up," said Rachael.

She shook her head. "I'm not worried about her." She laughed derisively. "She's actually the last thing I'm worried about, so," she made a face, "I'm sure not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking that I am."

"It just looks like dull chit-chat," Caroline said, as if trying to be reassuring.

"Dull and Celia go hand in hand," Victoire mumbled.

Rachael suddenly sat down in her seat. "What's-her-name just looked over here straight at you."

"How nice," Victoire said lamely, now wondering exactly what was being said; especially if it concerned her. The urge to turn around and watch what was going on was both enticing and nauseating at the same time, but she made herself stare straight ahead.

"I know a charm," Caroline said, glancing at Victoire. "My friend and I invented it in school so we could listen in on people's private conversations. It was how I found out that my so-called friends were talking about me behind my back. If you wanted to we could—"

"Do it!" Rachael urged, looking at her as if she was crazy for not saying something earlier. She looked back at Victoire. "I told you I'm nosy."

Victoire hesitated for a half a second, wondering if eavesdropping on Ted was something that was technically wrong to do in a relationship. Then again, it wasn't him who she wanted to hear. She wanted to know what Celia was saying because, deep down, she wanted to know how Celia was reacting to the news that she and Ted were together. Why she was interested, she didn't know, but yet, she was. There was no denying it. She just was.

She nodded at Caroline.

"Okay, well, I haven't done this since I graduated," Caroline said with a heavy sigh as she pulled out her wand "so let's hope it still—"

She mumbled something, and once second later new voices were emitting from the tip her wand. They were faint, but if one listened closely enough you could just make them out.

"Hold on, I need to focus on them," Caroline said, trying to shield her wand from sight so it didn't look as if she was pointing it straight at them. It took her a second, but quickly enough Celia's voice came across clear as day. Victoire would recognize it anywhere.

"_Are you still working those mad long hours down at the hospital_?" she heard Celia ask.

"_Uh, it's not so bad anymore,_" answered Ted. "_It got better after the first year, you know. Just like I always said it would. So, I was right about that."_

"She's nodding," said Rachael, who had apparently decided that she wanted to watch the show as well.

"_Well, that's fortunate for you, then," _said Celia before she became quiet for a long moment_. "It seems I was right, too." _

Rachael laughed_. "_Ted's face is pretty funny right now. It's very '_What the hell are you talking about…?'_"

_"You're going to have to be a little vaguer," _Ted said sarcastically.

Victoire could hear Celia laugh, but her laughter was muffled by Rachael saying, "She's looking over here again. She almost caught me staring."

"_How long has it been?" _asked Celia.

_"How long has what been?_" came Ted's immediate response.

"Okay," Rachael said, turning forward in her chair. "She definitely caught me staring that time, but I was caught off-guard when she pointed straight at us."

"She pointed at us?" asked Caroline.

"She pointed at me," Victoire said, realizing exactly where Celia was going with this. She was asking Ted how long he and she had been together. She obviously knew.

"Okay, now Ted's looking over here," said Rachael, her expression almost laughable as she attempted to use only her peripheral vision to watch was going on.

"_Since August," _said Ted. _"That makes it about five months_."

Celia hummed, and although Victoire couldn't tell one way or the other, it felt like her eyes were burning into the back of her at that moment. _"I would have expected it to be longer."_

_"I'm sure you did…"_ said Ted, suddenly sounding annoyed.

"_Sorry, Ted, but I can't help it if the two of you haven't been obvious to anyone who's ever known you. You don't really expect me to stand here acting surprised, do you?"_

_"That's sort of funny_," said Ted, "_seeing as everyone else was damn near shocked when we got together."_

"_Everyone else wasn't looking at you the same way I once did_," she said, her tone sounding a mixture of annoyed and nostalgic. "_Otherwise, it would have been as clear as day_."

"_Not that it at all matters in the least, but for the record—and because I'm not this guy you seem to want to paint me as no matter how hard you try—when we were together, I didn't have feelings for Victoire. I never lied about that." _

Celia laughed, though it sounded patronizing. "_If that makes you feel better about yourself, Ted, then by all means keep telling yourself that."_

_"Why do I even…?" _He grew silent._ "Fine. Whatever you say."_

"_You figured it all out in the end and that's all that matters," _Celia said, still sounding condescending. "_As long as you're happy, then I'm happy for you."_

_"Well, I am happy,_" Ted said immediately, "_very, very happy. So thanks. You were apparently onto something, and I probably should have come to my senses years ago. It's a damn shame I didn't."_

Both Caroline and Rachael looked up at Victoire, and she glanced back them before smiling a little. She had heard enough.

"Excuse me," she said, standing as she said it. She wasn't sure what was compelling her to walk over there, other than the fact she'd had enough Ted and Celia to last a lifetime, but it was time to put this all to bed for good. Celia could have the satisfaction of thinking she had walked over there simply because she witnessed them talking together if she wanted. Victoire was tired of Celia's mere presence keeping her at bay. Those days were now over.

Celia noticed her approaching first, but that was only because Ted had his back facing her direction. It wasn't until she put her hand on his arm and gave it an affectionate rub that he turned.

"Hi, sweetheart," Victoire said. "I was just looking for you." She turned and looked at Celia, who was staring back at her as if someone had just said something exceptionally awkward or off-color. "Celia." She forced a sarcastic smile. "It's been too long."

"You and I both know that's not true," she said.

"Well, at least we agree on something," Victoire mumbled, looking back at Ted. "Anyway, I was just coming to collect on that dance you promised me." She smiled at him.

Ted's eyebrow raised at that.

"You dance now?" asked Celia, looking at Ted.

"He does with me," said Victoire plainly, and before she really knew what she was saying. "Why? Did he not with you?"

Celia rolled her eyes, though she didn't say anything right away. Victoire glanced back at Ted, who looked _almost_ impressed with her for how she'd gone and worked that out. She knew he wouldn't sell her out and let Celia win this. He'd have to dance with her.

"Well," Celia said, forcing a smile at Ted. "Nice seeing you. Take care of yourself, Ted."

"You too," he said blankly.

She turned to leave, but stopped mid-turn to face them again. "Victoire." She forced another smile, though it seemed far more strained than the one she'd just given Ted. "Congratulations. You two are," she paused, "perfect for each other."

Ted made a face that begged to ask what that was supposed to mean considering the source, but Victoire simply returned Celia's smile with as much sarcasm laced, faux politeness as Celia had dealt out.

"Thanks. I know."

Celia didn't hang around for a moment longer after that, but rather turned away and walked off in the opposite direction, seemingly trying to get as far away from them as possible. Once she was gone, Ted sighed and looked back at Victoire.

"Dirty trick."

She smiled. "I told you I'd figure out some new tricks. I always do."

"I don't know whether to be horrified or extremely turned on."

"Tell you what," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the dance floor. "You can figure that out while we're dancing."

Ted grumbled, following along dutifully, if not without a definite drag in his step. "You win this round, Weasley."

There was a slow song already playing, and Victoire was thankful for that. Had it been a fast song, Celia or no Celia, Ted would have probably had second thoughts and walked off in the opposite direction. A slow song she knew he could stomach. He'd merely have to move a little, side to side, and follow the music. That's all there was to it.

Victoire stood in front of him and put her hands up on his shoulder, though when she took a step closer, she then clasped her hands together and let them hang lazily around his neck. She grinned at him as he put his hands on her waist and begrudged a smile.

"Now you have to pretend that you like this," Victoire said, pushing him off a little to remind him he actually had to dance, not just stand there.

"You just said I had to dance. Not that that I had to like it," he said, though he pulled her closer as he said it. "I like you, though."

"And I like you, which is why I enjoy being close to you—"

"Are you actually dancing!?" asked Simon suddenly. He was standing just a few feet away; dancing with Susan, but gawking at Ted. "Have you been Confunded?"

Ted turned back to Victoire, looking not at all amused by that comment.

"Aw," she laughed a little and stroked the back of his neck. "Don't act like you haven't been having fun tonight." She glanced over her shoulder. "Well, until that little run-in with You-Know-Who." She looked back at him. "I could see you getting annoyed with her from across the room."

He sighed and shook his head. "Just talking to her literally sucks all of the energy out of me. It's like she's a succubus. I like to think I've gone and grown a sack since she and I split up, but then she comes over and it's back to the same old…" He trailed off. "What did I see in her for so long?"

"You were young and naïve," Victoire said, patting him playfully on the shoulder. "And let's be fair. She can be pretty when she hides the horns and leaves her pitchfork at home." She made a face in the direction Celia disappeared off into. "It's just that she so rarely ever does…"

Ted smiled.

"Is that a smile!?" Victoire joked, tugging at his neck. "A smile while you're dancing? Why, I didn't think such a thing was possible!"

He laughed a little. "Shut up."

"And a laugh! Oh, what mad world have I stepped into where it's possible for Ted Lupin to actually smile and laugh while being forced to suffer though the wretched, horrible, excruciating experience of dancing with his girlfriend."

"You are so lame," he laughed, pulling her right against his body to kiss her where she stood.

"Yes, yes," she smiled up at him, "I'm aware."

"You know," he said, still holding her against him, "it's almost midnight."

She nodded. "On New Year's Eve. I still need to find someone to kiss."

"Yeah, me too," he said, looking around the room. "If we don't find anyone, we should probably try each other."

"Well, as a last resort, maybe."

"Actually, I was thinking that after midnight, we get out of here," he said, looking back down at her.

"And go where?" she asked lightheartedly, right as the music started to slow itself down as the song neared it's end.

"I'll give you one guess."

She smiled and let go of him just as the music stopped entirely. "All right. After all, you do look _terrible_ in those robes. We really should get you out of them as quickly as possible."

Ted began to laugh, but was interrupted by a man's booming voice as it called out over crowd and beckoned for the room's attention. Apparently, someone in the band was trying to make an announcement.

"Alright, ladies and gentleman, I need all the blokes away and all of the lovely single ladies to make their way out here so Susan can throw her bouquet. Let's come on now!"

Victoire looked back at Ted and grinned. "Should I do it?"

He made face. "I don't think what I say is going to affect your decision one way or the other."

She nodded as if she agreed with that. "Do you remember when we were kids and…I think it was…" she stopped to think, "Ron and Hermione's wedding?"

"It was Harry and Ginny's," he said, seemingly already aware of where she was going with this. "How you tried to go catch it, but got crushed by all those older ladies, right?"

"Was it Harry and Ginny's?" she said, still considering that. That didn't seem right, but at the same time, she saw no reason to disagree. "Well, anyway, do you remember how I told you that if I caught it you had to marry me, but then Harry went and convinced me that a dance would be a better deal?"

"Harry is a clever, clever man," Ted said, grinning fondly. "I got so annoyed with him for that, but he knew you wouldn't catch it since you were so small. He was doing me a favor."

Victoire gaped. "And I'm full of dirty tricks?"

"That was all Harry's doing," Ted said, pointing behind him, as if indicating to some invisible Harry that should be standing there. "I was innocent. I still danced with you after you got pummeled by those ladies, didn't I?" He pointed to himself. "I'm the good guy."

"Yeah, well," she smirked, "if I do catch it, there won't be any Harry around to save your arse this time."

"You'd have to catch it first," he said, sounding as if he was challenging her.

She threw him a determined now before turning away and marching out to join the large group of girls that were positioned in a semicircle around the center of the dance floor. Susan was standing in front of the group, scanning the faces of the crowd; Victoire tried to work out where it would be best for her to stand, but didn't have long to ponder that before she felt someone suddenly grab onto her wrist and tug her towards the front of the group. It was Simon. He was pulling her forward.

"Simon, what are you—?"

He stopped her literally behind Susan and at the front of the group of women. "Stand here." He smiled and winked at her before taking a look around the room. "Now where's Ted so I can see his face?"

"Oohh, he's going to kill you…" said Victoire, just as Simon was ushered off the floor by several of the more impatient looking women that were standing about. When Victoire turned back around towards Susan, she noticed that she was now smiling at her with a purpose. This was all apparently very planned out.

"Now," said man with the booming voice, "on the count of three! One, two, three—!"

Susan lobbed her bouquet over her shoulder rather lamely, though it probably had gone exactly where she had intended it to go. While it was in the air for that half of a second, Victoire could feel the crowd of woman behind her start to swarm in on her, but it was already too late. The bouquet had fallen—rather intentionally—right into her hands.

"Yay!" said Susan, turning to congratulate her. "Good catch!"

Victoire could feel several congratulatory hands on her back while other woman cheered happily and clapped or grumbled that they almost had it themselves. Even though it had been evidently staged for her benefit, Victoire couldn't help but grin at the fact that she'd caught it.

She turned around on the spot and went straight back through the crowd to where she'd left Ted. Sure enough, he was still standing where'd she'd last seen him, though he was now joined by Simon, who looked entirely too amused by everything that had just happened. He currently had his arm around Ted and was shaking him playfully. Ted just stood there shaking his head, grinning as if he'd been suckered.

"I caught it," Victoire said proudly, holding it up to show them both.

"Ha!" Simon said, walking over and wrapping his arm around her, just as he had Ted. He looked back at Ted. "So, when's the wedding?"

Ted stared at him, looking as if he could laugh and throttle him at the exact same time.

"Oh, come on," Simon said. "It's funny!" He looked back at Victoire. "You'll invite me, won't you?"

"Well, I'll invite Susan and you can come as her date," she said, picking the bouquet of flowers up to sniff them.

Simon clapped his hands together before he pointed at the two of them. "You just let me know when." With that he clapped once more and laughed before he headed back out onto the dance floor, where the music had once again kicked up.

Victoire turned back to Ted and smiled. Truth be told, she was secretly just excited that she'd caught the bouquet because they were really lovely flowers. They smelled amazing.

"Nice catch," he said, smiling a little.

"Why thank you," she joked, sidling up to him and holding them up for him to smell, which he did dutifully. He nodded, but his expression remained reserved as he attempted to keep his act of pretending to be perturbed by all of this going. He was failing miserably. She could see in his eyes he thought it was at least a little funny. His face always gave him away.

"I can't believe you caught those," he said, laughing a little to himself.

She grinned. "You know what that means?"

"According to the gimmick, you're apparently the next person to get married," he said, looking down at her flowers. "You'll have to be sure and invite me."

"Well, it'd be only right. We have known each other for so long…"

He smirked and shook his head, glancing over his shoulder and across the room. "I think I've had enough wedding talk to last me the rest of my life."

"I know, you've been a good sport," she said, reaching out to give him a small hug. "And just so you know, I'm kidding."

"That's why I'm playing along," he said, kissing the top of her head. "If I thought for a second you were trying to work out our wedding now, I'd probably be hiding in a corner."

She cracked a small half smile and let her gaze trail back down to her flowers.

"But," he said, his voice getting quiet. "I will say one thing."

She looked back up at him.

"When it does happen," he began, not looking at her and instead letting his eyes travel around the room, "it'll be ever better than this." He nodded. "Just so you know."

She blinked for a second as those words sunk in with her. Was he actually talking about…? She stared at him. "_When_ it does happen?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah, one day…"

Victoire immediately let a smile creep across her face at the mere thought of Ted even contemplating ideas like this; ideas that involved them being together that far into the future. Even though all it was really was just talk, there was something about it all that sent an immense thrill through just hearing it come from his mouth.

"Well, I don't know how we'll do any better," she said, feeling the need to make a small joke to lighten the mood given all the seriousness. "This was a very fun wedding. The Ministry doesn't tend to offer—"

"Who are we kidding?" he interrupted. "You're probably going to win that battle when it comes." He looked back at her and smiled. "But let's not worry about that until we have to."

She couldn't even bother hiding her smile at that. "I cannot believe you actually admitted to being willing to have an actual wedding. I want that in writing."

"Of course you do," he laughed, before gesturing for her to follow him across the room. "Come on."

Victoire sniffed her flowered once more before following him without asking any questions as to where he was leading her. She was in such a fantastic mood after such a fun night that she actually had a little skip in her step. She probably could have actually skipped if she wanted, but she restrained herself from actually doing it.

Ted had finally stopped once he reached the cloak room, where a wizard was using his wand to match cloaks to a couple that was standing just in front of her and Ted. It had only taken him a few seconds to retrieve their cloaks and move on to Ted and her. He held out his hand to beckon for a ticket.

"Oh, you want to leave now?" Victorie asked, noticing a clock that sat just inside of the wizard's cloakroom that read 11:55. She had thought they were sticking it out until after midnight.

"Nah, we'll wait," Ted said, pulling a ticket out of his pocket and handing it to the wizard. "I just wanted to get them now since I figure most people will be leaving after midnight. We can avoid the crowds."

Victoire nodded, just as the wizard levitated their two cloak out of from somewhere within the depth of the cloakroom. Ted took them both, and handed Victoire hers, before he pulled his own around him.

She followed suit and pulled on her own cloak, though Ted had already started walking several steps ahead of her, as if he was headed somewhere specific. He had stopped once he crossed back across the room and reached a set of glass doors, which led out to a small outdoor sitting area. Through the glass, Victoire could see a few people milling around out there, talking and drinking, though she couldn't help but think it would be far more crowded if it wasn't near freezing outside.

"It's nice out," Ted said, as if reading her mind about the temperatures. "It's a nice night."

"It's a cold night," she said, still clutching her flowers as he opened the door and let a cold breeze bluster inside.

"Come on," he put his hands on her shoulders to direct her outside. "I'll keep you warm. I just want some air."

Victoire shook herself quickly to keep the cold off, but walked out and let the night immerse her. Only a few feet away, some very drunk man stood laughing loudly at something someone else in his group was saying, but she immediately noticed that he didn't have anything on over his dress robes. He even had the sleeves of his robes rolled up to his elbows, and carried on as if he was barely affected by cold. Either he was insane or he was too drunk to care.

Ted had walked her over to the edge of the sitting area, where a small railing separated the sitting area from the rest of the outside. She joined him at the spot next to him and let her hands rest on the railing before looked up into the sky, which was pitch black, but very clear. There were only a handful of stars visible from where she stood, though minus the cold, Ted was right. It was a very nice night.

Ted picked his hands up off her shoulders and instead wrapped them around her, allowing her to just lean back into him. "Told you it was nice out."

She looked up at him upside down. "Yeah…" She looked back down and found her eyes staring at the bouquet of flowers. There were white roses and yellow tulips that looks as fresh as they moment they'd been cut. Someone had obviously charmed them to stay lively looking throughout the night. She wondered how long the charm would last…

"What a year…" Ted muttered, letting his head rest just on top of hers.

Victoire laughed a little. "It had definitely been a year for the ages. I don't think either of us ever anticipated last New Year's Eve that we would be standing here this New Year's Eve like we are."

"Well, _we_ didn't," he said sarcastically, "but if you go ask Celia in there, _she'll_ tell you…" He let his voice trail off.

Victoire shrugged a little. "You know, Whit says she's convinced we've been in love with each other longer than either of us knew it, too. Maybe they're all onto something we just don't know."

"Or maybe they're all mental…"

Victoire laughed and looked back up at him. "That's what I think. I know the moment I fell in love with you was last April, sitting in your bed with you, half-drunk after the Dragon's Breath. I can actually remember it."

Ted smiled. "We've got a lot of good memories in that bed."

"We really do," she said, nodding. "I can only wonder what future holds."

"For my bed?" he asked. "Because I can actually tell you that in about ten minutes…"

She let her head thump back against his chest playfully. "I was talking about in general, you dolt." She laughed and looked back up at him, "You're practically obsessed now."

Ted laughed, just as at that very moment the drunk from across the way started loudly counting backwards from fifteen; something his friends had started doing as well. Apparently, the new year was upon them.

"You know," Victoire said, turning around to face him before she reached up to brush a piece of hair out of his face. "Rumor has it that who you kiss at midnight will be the one you're kissing throughout the rest of the year."

"So, I just have to kiss you at midnight every New Year's for the rest of time?" asked Ted, right as the voices of the drunk man counted down six, five, four...

She smiled and learned into him, stopping just before their lips met. "I have a feeling that we won't be needing midnight."


	40. The Epilogue

**5 years later**

Ted sniffled as he walked up the stairs towards his flat. He'd felt himself coming down with a cold that morning, but had spent the better part of his day at work drinking Pepper-Up Potions and brewing himself things that he knew would deter himself from getting any sicker than he already was. The last thing he could afford to do was get sick now, especially considering he'd had the last five months to get sick. Now was not the time.

Upon reaching his front door, he reached and turned the knob without bothering to stop and check if it was unlocked, knowing already that it would be open. As he entered, the warmth of the room hit him instantaneously, brining on a complete turnabout from the freezing New Year's temperatures from outside. In had been 2023 for less than a day and a half, but it seemed that all the new year had brought with it thus far were frigid winds, and rainy, sleet filled hours. Sure, the year had just started, but Ted couldn't help but remind himself—almost obsessively— that in a week's time, he'd have warmth and summer sunshine instead of a cold and grey winter. One week…

With a tired groan, he threw his stuff down on the floor and glanced around his flat—the very same flat he'd lived in since he was eighteen. It was looking scarce now, what with cardboard boxes piled up and strewn all over the room; only his larger pieces of future remained to remind him of what the place had even looked like before. Staring at it now, he almost couldn't get over how different it all looked with everything packed away. The room looked so much larger; so much emptier.

That wasn't even taking into account the night and day difference of how everything looked since the day he moved in. The stark white walls had now been painted to a tan color that even he had to admit made the room feel far less like an asylum and much more comfortable. The old furniture—most of which had been hand-me-downs from friends and family that he'd collected upon first moving in—were now actual pieces that he'd had a say in purchasing. There were pictures on the wall—or rather, there had been before they'd been packed away in boxes. It was strikingly strange to see the walls as bare as they were now, what with the frames missing from the spots they'd hung in for so long. Everything looked naked.

He glanced towards the window, where the only thing that remained exactly as it was from when he'd moved in at eighteen—his workbench—still sat. It was nestled snuggly between the window and the wall; the shelves of potion samples and ingredient still stationed directly above it and covered with various glass vials. In fact, the only change in his workspace over the last six years was that it had gotten a little bigger after he'd added a set of cupboards in the space where Auggie's cage used to be. Even then, it wasn't as if he'd really needed the cupboards, but filling the vacant space had been something Ted had needed to do after Auggie had passed two years earlier. He just couldn't handle staring at the empty gap where his things used to be.

He took one last lingering scan of the room, realizing that his workbench was really one of the only things left he had to pack. There were a few more things left to do in the bedroom, but other than that, the entire place looked as if it was actually shaping up to be moved. It was just a matter of time before he'd be ready to—

"Hey!" said a voice, cutting into his thoughts. "You're home early. I thought you said you wouldn't be back until seven."

He turned and smiled at the petite, little red-head who had emerged from the bedroom with her hair tossed messily up into a sloppy bun and a funny, bright pink knit hat on her head. The bright pink against her hair and freckles made her look drastically paler than usual, but she didn't seem to notice or care. She rarely did.

"Yeah, I did my best to cut out early, Ted said, looking around the room. "You packed a lot today. You went and took the pictures off the wall."

She nodded and stepped forward into the room. "I think this entire room is all but done. I did the kitchen today, too." She pointed towards it as she spoke. "All that's left is the bedroom and your bench over there."

Ted grinned appreciatively. "You're the best, Lil. I honestly wouldn't have gotten half this far if you hadn't helped me out."

Lily shrugged, pulling up the sleeves of her jumper to her elbow. "It's not like I had anything better to do over holiday break. Even if contributing to your move isn't something I'm exactly thrilled about."

"It's just two years."

"Two years," she said, throwing him a look that begged to ask how that wasn't an eternity. "When you get back, I'll almost be seventeen. I'll be sixteen and ten months if you want to be specific."

Ted laughed at Lily's desire to always be as specific as possible. "You act like that's so far away."

"It is far away!"

"But you'll be away at school for the most of it, so it doesn't even matter," he said. "We'll probably see each other just as much if you think about it."

"I'll still miss you," she mumbled, walking over to the sofa to plop herself on what little space wasn't currently covered in boxes.

"You've never been to Australia," he said with blatant enthusiasm in his tone. "Now you and the rest of your family have an excuse to come visit."

"Yeah, yeah…" she mumbled, reaching up the pull her hat down lower on her head to cover her eyes.

"Nice hat."

"I found it," she said, pulling it back up over her eyes again. "In your closet when I was packing up some of your stuff." She smiled. "Pink's not you color, so I'm keeping it."

Ted yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "It's not mine, but you're more than welcome to have it. If Vic didn't take it with her, she probably didn't want it."

"Maybe she just forgot it?" Lily asked as she took it off her head to examine it.

"It's pretty ugly," said Ted. "If she forgot it, she probably did it on purpose."

Lily made a face, obviously disagreeing with his ugly assessment. "I think it's cool." She looked back at him. "I'll just ask her when I see her."

"Yeah, well, she should be here within the hour," he said, clicking his tongue absently. "You could ask her then."

"Eh, Dad's due to come and pick me up any minute, so I'll probably miss her," she said, still examining the hat in her hands. "So, wait. Was the last time you saw Vicki when the two of you—?"

There was a knock at the door that caused them both to look immediately at it. Without hesitating, Ted took a few sidesteps towards it and pulled it open to reveal Harry standing on the other side. He looked rather cold and pink faced standing there with his cloak bustled up around the collar.

"Told you so," Lily said, glancing at Ted before she stood from the sofa. "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Lil," Harry said, throwing her a quick smile before turning it onto Ted. "Hey, Ted." He stepped inside and gave the room a quick once over, his eyes trailing over all of the boxes and packed items. "Almost all packed, then?"

"Almost."

"I like it to be known that I did most of it," Lily added.

"She definitely did," Ted said, nodding toward most of the room. "I don't know what I would have done had she not come over to help. With me trying to tie up all my loose ends down at Mungo's, I haven't had the time to do anything."

"You should have said something earlier," Harry said, his tone dropping to a wearier sounding one. "Had I known you needed the extra help, I would have sent the boys over with Lily." He pulled a quick face. "At the moment, they're at my and Ginny's beck and call, whether they like it or not."

"Because they're grounded," Lily said immediately, piggybacking off her father's comment. There was a definite amusement in her tone, as though she seemed to find something particularly funny about this.

"Both of them?" Ted asked. "What'd they do?"

"They—" Lily began, eagerly stepping forward to tell him before Harry could begin, "went out last night and had too much to drink at a friend's house. They came home at, like, two in the morning and made so much noise stumbling about that they woke everyone up. Al was sick in the toilet all night."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I was annoyed because I had to be up for work this morning and they're running around like a bunch of nutters in the middle of the night knocking into things, making noise, acting ridiculously…" He shook his head. "I know they're sixteen and seventeen and they're at an age where they're friends are all that matter, but it's not as if Ginny and I have ever been overly strict. We let them go out and enjoy themselves, but to act so stupid…"

"Mum was livid," Lily added. "She woke them both up at seven o'clock in the morning and made them do chores."

"And they're still at them as we speak," Harry muttered. "They may very well be for the rest of the holidays, too, if Ginny has her way."

"They deserve it," Lily said, smiling smugly before she looked back at Ted. "But, honestly, it was so funny this morning to see them dragged out of bed. James could barely stand and Al honestly looked green."

"We never had this problem with you," Harry continued, gesturing at Ted. "You were always so easy."

"Well, I was a perfect child," Ted joked. "Then again, I have a feeling James and Al have a little more going on in their lives than I used to at school."

"Yeah, well, it's starting to wear on me," Harry said lazily. "As far as I'm concerned, they could use a break from the running around at all hours and the meeting with friends. They can take the next two days off before going back to school and enjoy some family time. Speaking of which, you'll be over tomorrow, won't you?"

"Mum's cooking all your favorites for your going-away party," said Lily. "Well…" she laughed, "she is unless she makes James and Al do it."

Both Ted and Harry curled their lips at the mere mention of the idea of James and Albus at the helm of dinner making, but Ted still nodded regardless. "Definitely will, even though it's a bit early for going-away parties. I don't even leave for a week."

"But we have to do ours before we go back to school," Lily said obviously. "Plus, we're the only party that matters."

"That's true," Harry said, smiling a little before turning to go back out the front door. "Lil, you got all your stuff? We need to get back."

She looked around the room, as if to check if she did, before she seemed to realize that she was still wearing the pink knit hat on her head. She reached up to take it off

"I'm telling you," said Ted. "You can keep it. If Vic left it, she didn't want it."

Lily hesitated, looking as though she obviously wanted to take it with her, but she just wasn't sure. After a couple of seconds, she lowered her hand from her head. "Okay, well, I guess I could always give it back if she does want it. She'd just have to tell me."

Ted threw Harry an amused look, which Harry returned before placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Grab your cloak and let's get going." He looked back at Ted. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Teddy," Lily said as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders.

"See you tomorrow," Ted said, watching as Lily waved a little before Harry grabbed her arm and Apparated on the spot.

Ted sniffled once they were gone and stared at where they had been standing for several seconds more, feeling slightly dazed. When he turned back around to face his flat, a strange feeling crept up upon him as he stood alone in his place with everything boxed up and put away. He'd grown fairly used to living on his own again over the last couple of months, but at least a few days ago he could walk around his flat without tripping over boxes everywhere he went.

He reached out to shut the front door behind him, contemplating whether he had enough time to take a nap, when the sound of people coming up the stairs made him hesitate. There were voices; very familiar voices. He sensed that he knew who they belonged to and turned back towards the corridor to wait and see who appeared. He wanted to double check and make sure it wasn't who he thought it was, though, by the sounds of things, there really wasn't anyway it couldn't be—

"Hey!" shouted Durrin, who had just turned the corner with his hands full of flattened cardboard boxes. "You are home!"

"I had a feeling you would be," said Whit, her arms also full of flattened boxes, though she looked to be struggling with hers.

"I thought you might still be at work," Durrin said to Ted, dropping the cardboard pieces down on his doorstep. "You feeling any better?"

Ted shrugged and gestured to the boxes that were now at his feet. "What do you got there?"

"We come bearing gifts."

"Boxes," said Ted, reaching down to pick one up off the floor.

"You can never have too many boxes," said Durrin, looking off behind Ted and into his flat. "Shit, mate, you're almost all packed."

"I guess you can have too many boxes," said Whit, looking into the flat for herself.

"No, I appreciate it," said Ted, reaching out to relieve Whit of her armful as he turned back inside. "I still have a few more things to pack up." He let the cardboard fall onto the floor with a lazy gesture and gestured to Durrin to do the same.

"You really have got a lot done," said Whit, making her way towards the sofa and moving a box to make more room to sit. "Knowing how busy you've been lately, I didn't think you'd have half this much done."

"Yeah," Durrin laughed. "The way you were going, I thought the move was off."

"I had a little help," said Ted, plopping himself down on a free space of floor across from where Whit was now sitting. "Believe it or not, I can figure out ways to get stuff done."

"Well, at least you're not totally useless without Victoire," Durrin joked.

"Ha-ha," said Ted.

"Speaking of Vic," said Whit, sitting up straighter. "When was the last time you talked to her? Because when I last heard from her, she said she was planning on being back in England days ago, but I haven't been able to get a hold of her."

"She _was _supposed to be back days ago," Ted said, reaching up to run his hands through his hair,  
"but she changed her plans at the last minute to go to France to visit her brother."

"Ohhh," said Whit, as if something suddenly dawned on her. "That makes sense." She paused for a long moment. "How is Louis doing?"

Ted shrugged. "Last I heard, he has his good days and bad, but you can ask Vic when she gets here." He checked his watch. "She said she'd be here before seven."

"I'm glad she's finally back," Whit said, crossing her legs and leaning back into the sofa. "I feel like I haven't seen her in…when was the last time she came home?"

"Start of October, I think," Ted said, consulting the mental calendar in his head, "so, about there months ago."

"So…I haven't seen her since then," Whit said, half frowning. "And now, she'll finally be back, but then she'll be picking right back up and leaving again."

"Except this time she's taking Ted with her," Durrin said, throwing him a lazy smile.

Ted grinned. "That she is."

"I can't believe it's already been five months since she moved to Australia," said Whit. "It's been so weird not having her around."

Ted made an obvious noise of agreement.

"At least you still get to see her all the time," Whit mumbled.

"I've gotten to see her _maybe_ once a month since she's left," said Ted, stretching his legs out on the floor in front of him. "I wouldn't exactly say that's 'all the time.'"

"But still," Whit continued, as if she was making some sort of point. "She's my best friend, and yet even Durrin's seen her more recently than I have."

"I have?" Durrin asked, taking a random, box-free spot on the floor next to Ted. "When was the last time I saw her?"

"When we went to Italy for that antidote conference back in November," Ted said. "Remember, we went out a few days early and she met us there?"

"Oh, right…" He quickly laughed and looked back at Whit. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think I saw Victoire for more than three seconds while she was there." He glanced at Ted. "And I don't think I saw you until after she left."

Ted smirked. "We were very busy."

"Yeah," Durrin muttered. "If you remember, I had the room next door." He glanced back at Whit before he started rapping his fist against the nearest wall. "This is all I heard for two days straight."

"Give them a break," said Whit. "They were celebrating."

"Because they go and get engaged, I get to lose sleep?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Ted said, not sounding sorry at all.

"This is why I need to talk to Victoire," Whit said matter-of-factly. "I haven't even heard the full story of how you proposed. I just got some half-arsed explanation from you that left out all of the good stuff."

"What did I leave out?" Ted asked. He certainly hadn't thought his explanation was half-arsed.

"All you said was that you took her for a walk and did it," Whit mumbled. "She said yes, and that was it. Now, I know Victoire, so I know for a fact she didn't just say 'yes' and 'that was it.'"

"That sounds like enough of an explanation to me," Durrin muttered, looking back at Ted. "What else do you want, a second by second playback of their facial expressions?"

"Yeah, seriously." Ted agreed.

Whit rolled her eyes. "This is why Victoire needs to be back."

Ted laughed a little before he sniffled and felt his nose growing stuffier once again. This had to stop. He could not be getting sick the day Victoire was coming home. After spending the last five months seeing her for just days at a time—whether it be because she came home, he went to Australia, or they somehow met somewhere in the middle—today things could finally go back to the way they had been before she had moved away in the first place. He could go back to waking up next to her and seeing her in the morning before she'd gotten ready, falling asleep beside her and listening to her snoring, talking about random occurrences in their days, being sick, being mad, being angry, being happy…being normal. He missed the normal.

Granted, now they would be experiencing it all in an entirely different country where he barely knew anyone, but there was something enticing about the mystery in that. Not to mention that it was only for two years—the length of Victoire's job contract—so even if he ended up disliking everything about life down there, they'd be back in England before he really knew what had hit him. But he really wasn't worried about all of that, anyway. Victoire talked non-stop about how amazing it was in Australia and claimed constantly of how much he would love it too. He'd make it work.

This entire move was something he'd thought impossibly long and hard about; especially considering that his life was here in England. His family and friends were here, his research and career was here, everything was here…well, everything except the person he cared most about in the world. She had been given a career changing opportunity to move to Australia to help some massive excavation site in the Outback with their rune discoveries. It was an opportunity that Victoire couldn't afford not to do, and also one that would have split them up for years at a time if she did go.

For weeks, her staying or going had been decision that had kept them both up for nights at a time, but when she had finally had made her choice to do it, she had done something rather unexpected—she had actually asked Ted to come with her.

What had gone from her making a huge decision for the two of them had suddenly flipped onto him making one; one that he'd toiled over for an additional two weeks obsessively as he weighed the pros and cons of what this move would—or could—entail.

His career had been his first concern. He'd come a long way over the years with his research, both on hospital mandated projects and his own personal projects. He'd been through three massive breakthroughs with gene mutation, and not only random viral samples, but also on the lycanthropy in werewolves. While he still hadn't fully established himself well enough to work solely on his own werewolf initiated projects like he would have liked to, he—along with Magda—were generally making a name for themselves around the Healing community with breakthrough after breakthrough. Things were happening…

But even with all of that taken into account, Ted had realized fairly quickly that it wasn't his job that was hindering his decision to move. After all, most of his research was easy enough to take with him and continue doing elsewhere. Plus, as long as he made frequent trips back to England, very little was holding him back. If anything, getting away from Mungo's was probably a good thing. To a lot of the people there, like Hazel and Nate—both of whom were still there, though now even Nate had been promoted to a senior researcher—Ted would always be the young, wide-eyed kid who had started there straight out of school. Whether they meant to or not, they would always treat him that way. Getting away from Mungo's meant new people; people who would take him seriously from the start. That alone a very appealing…

On that thought, he'd even gone so far as to inquire where he could transfer to in Australia if he did decide to make the move. He'd garnered a fairly decent response from not only a wizard hospital that was interested, but also a Research Center dedicated solely to antidote enrichment—something they didn't have here in England. Both of these were great opportunity, and it was this news, after some initial hesitations, that had made most of his friends and family jump on board with his move. His grandmother especially, once she knew that he could continue with his work as he was, had been far more supportive with the idea after hearing this. Some people, like Durrin, even went so far as to call him a moron if he didn't jump on the Research Center job as fast as he could get it.

No, it hadn't been any of those factors—his job, friends, or family—that had deterred his decision in moving at first. What had made him question the move was how the idea of it all had made him think about _other_ things—much more permanent life changing things. It made him realize that if he was so willing to pick up everything and move halfway around the world for this girl—if it really was that easy for him to want to do it—then maybe it was time he made another very important decision for his life. Maybe he needed to face his future and who he wanted in it.

And that had been when he decided he'd propose to Victoire. It was that simple. If she said yes, he'd move. If she said no, he'd stay. If he was going to pick up his life and make such a huge commitment to her, then it was probably only fair to make sure she was on the same page as he was. Not that he ever doubted she was, but it would be nice to make it somewhat official. It would be nice to know…

That alone had been the only good thing about having Victoire away those first few months, seeing as it made planning a proposal fairly easy when he didn't have to worry about her accidently stumbling across his plans. He had talked to Harry, Ginny, and his grandmother about it first; their reactions ranging from Harry's, _"As long as it's what you want to do,"_ to Ginny and his grandmother's, _"It's about damn time."_

He'd gone and told Whit next because he'd wanted her help, though he made her swear to secrecy that she wouldn't utter a single word to Victoire. He'd been a little worried about that one, but thankfully Whit had come through brilliantly; even going so far as to feign complete surprise in her congratulatory letter to Victoire when she did "find out." He'd told Durrin third, who had easily become his closest friend since Simon's move across the pond to Boston with Susan and their children—four and a half-year old Sebastian and two-year-old Madeline—but that wasn't to say Simon didn't get an owl as soon as Ted could write one. Both he and Durrin's responses had been identical in that they claimed dibs on being best man when Victoire did say yes, but Ted had to worry about her actually saying yes before he worried about details like that…even if he seemed to be the only one who even doubted her answer.

_"And she will say yes…"_ Simon had written in response to Ted's plans. "_If that is what's factoring into whether or not you're moving to Australia, then you better start packing your bags. Also, expect my entire family out for a visit. I've never been to down there and I could use the holiday…and I suppose seeing you would be nice too. It's been so damn long I don't think Madeline even knows what her godfather even looks like these day. Lucky her."_

Of course, there was one final mission he had to accomplish before he could actually propose to Victoire, and that was to confront Bill and Fleur Weasley about his intentions. He'd actually grown exceptionally close to both of Victoire's parents over the years, so it wasn't entirely surprising to see Fleur start to cry happy tears once he'd told her. Bill Weasley hadn't cried, but there was an emotion in his eyes that Ted had certainly never seen there before. It was something that was happy and sad all at the same time, though his first comment afterwards was to welcome Ted to the family…before throwing him a smile and adding, "If Victoire says yes."

No one else seemed to question that Victoire would say yes, but that hadn't made Ted feel any less anxious when the moment actually came. Week's worth of planning had come to an end when she met him in Italy several days before a Healing and Antidote conference was set to begin. It had been over a month since they'd last scene each other; a much needed holiday for them both. Even with as lovely and peaceful as everything seemed, Ted knew that if he didn't get his proposal out of the way that first day, he'd spend the next couple of days in an anxious stupor; continuously wondering when he should do it and what she would say when he actually did.

So, he had made her take a walk with him. Neither of them had even been to Rome before, so he suggested a random trip sightseeing. They'd spent the day out and about, and Ted almost felt like they'd walked the city fourteen times before he finally plucked up the courage to just do it.

They had just been standing on a random street corner with the sun setting between the buildings and spilling romantic patches of sunlight onto the sidewalk and roads around them. There was literally nothing of note to look at—no particularly interesting scenery unless you counted and elderly couple sitting on a nearby bench arguing with each other—but it had been then that Ted knew he had to do it or else his heart was literally going to beat itself out of his chest.

"What time did you want to go back?" Victoire had asked as she found herself several steps in front of him. She hadn't seemed to notice he had slowed his pace to a crawl.

"Whenever," mumbled Ted, his mind entirely preoccupied as he wiped his hand on his trousers. Why were his palms so damn sweaty?

"It's just," she turned around to look at him, "it's getting dark and I don't want to get lost."

He nodded.

She smiled at him—her perfect, amazing, wonderful smile that he never got tired of seeing. "Something wrong?"

He shook his head.

"Why are you lagging behind all of a sudden?"

"Am I?" he asked, looking around at the random buildings and the nearby elderly couple. The woman was yelling something in rapid Italian that sounded rather threatening.

Victoire laughed and walked back to where he was. "Come on, you looked exhausted. Let's go back and relax for bit." She smiled. "Now that we've seen Rome, I say you and I just lock ourselves away for the next couple of days and only come out if there's a fire or a natural disaster."

He smiled more out of habit than anything. "That sounds good."

"Excellent." She reached down and took his in hers, pulling it with her as she walked forward. However, she stopped when Ted let his hand lag. He hadn't moved with her.

"Can I ask you something first?"

Victoire looked at him. Her face was blank, but on the verge of reaching full blown curiosity.

"Ok, I'm just going to do this," he said, rubbing his face quickly and reaching into his pocket.

"Do what?"

He didn't say a word, but just pulled out the box from his pocket. Even though Victoire could see what he was doing, she still looked confused. It was as if the realization hadn't hit her yet.

"What are you…?" she began, just as he opened the box towards her.

As soon as he did it, he realized he was doing something wrong. "Oh, wait, I forgot. I'm supposed to—" He went down on one knee. With a nervous smile he held up the ring box, looked back up at her, and said the first thing that came into his head. "Hi."

Her eyes had gone wide. "Are you serious?" she asked, though a small laugh of nervous disbelief had escaped her. She looked away for a second before looking back at him. "You're serious?"

He nodded. "Completely."

"Oh, Merlin's beard…" she said, the pitch of her voice much higher than normal. "This is happening…"

He smiled. "Will you?"

She laughed a little, her eyes now looking teary. "Will I what?"

Ted laughed too before he let his face grow calm. "You just want me to say it."

"You're damn right I do." She laughed and sniffled at the same time.

With a sudden calming feeling flooding through him, he continued to smile. "Will you marry me?"

Victoire bit her lip and looked away, though quickly looked back. "As if you had to ask." She immediately leaned down to meet him where he knelt and pressed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did.

He stood himself back up without breaking the connection between them and pulled her closer. Once he was back upright, they had stood there for a good five minutes after the fact relishing in the brilliance of the moment. Just like that, he had already planned the next two years of his life out. He was moving to Australia to be with a girl he was totally mad about and the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was only fitting given how much of their lives had been joined at the hip. There wasn't one part of Ted's life that he could look back on and not picture Victoire in some way, shape, or form. Even when they weren't speaking to each other, in the back of his mind, she was always there. She was in his memories, she was in his thoughts, and now she was in his future.

And that had been all it took. Ted had come home and officially put in a request to transfer; he'd told everyone he knew he was moving, not to mention getting married; he had started packing his stuff…or rather, he'd thrown some things into boxes until Lily agreed to do the grunt of the work for a ten Galleons, but still…it had all started happening. Soon enough, it would all be over with.

"You know, Lupin," Durrin said, interrupting Ted's thoughts and returning him to his living room. "You've got more shit than I thought." He pointed around the living room. "Is all of this just your or is some of it Victoire's?"

"Most of the furniture is ours together," Ted said, nodding towards the sofa, "but she already took most of her personal stuff when she moved. All of her clothes and stuff are gone, so most of the stuff we're moving is my stuff and the furniture."

"Where's she been staying if you're here with all the stuff?" Durrin asked.

"She moved in with this German woman who's pretty much her mentor," Ted said. "She's the one who really taught her the ropes of rune translation after she got out of school, and she's the one who put Vic's name out for the job in Australia in the first place. She's done a lot for her career."

"Have you even seen the place you two are moving into?" Whit asked.

Ted shook his head. "Vic says it's nice and that I'll like it. All I know is that it's somewhere in Perth and that she's excited about it." He shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be great. It's apparently not even that far from the research lab I'm transferring to."

"I still can't believe you're getting out of the hospital and going to work at a place that just specializes in antidote research," Durrin muttered. "You bloody prat. You have no idea how jealous I am that you won't have to work with patients all the time anymore."

Ted smiled meekly. "Yeah, well, I'm fairly convinced that it was so easy for me to get the transfer because of the perks that come with having a Metamorphmagus around in a research setting. Hell, Mungo's didn't want to let me go because of it. I had to promise them I'd make trips back."

"Mungo's was fighting to keep you for more reasons than you being a Metamorphmagus," Durrin said. "When you go and make another breakthrough towards curing werewolfism, they want to be hospital you do it at. Not some random center in Perth."

"Yeah, they just want the credit," Ted joked, just as the doorknob from the front door jingled as if it was being turned. With a quick check of his watch, he smiled and pulled himself up off the ground. 7:03. Right on time.

The door opened right as he stood, and through it Victoire appeared lugging a small trunk behind her. She had her strawberry blonde hair up in a ponytail and looked tanner than the last time Ted had seen her since she'd obviously been spending much more of her time outside on excavation sites. She didn't seem to realize that everyone in the room was watching her as she came through the door, but as she stepped into the living room and panned from person to person, the sudden admission of surprise was evident.

"I hadn't expected a welcoming committee," she said with a quick smile as she dropped her bag onto the ground. "Hi, everybody."

"Vic!" Whit said, wasting no time in rushing over to hug her. "It's been ages!"

"I know, I know," Victoire said wearily, hugging her tightly. "I really do mean to come home more often, I swear, I do." She stepped back. "You look great."

"You too," Whit said. "Do you know how much catching up have to do?"

Victoire smiled. "Entirely too much. One of these days before I have to go back will just be dedicated to you and me doing just that. I promise." She turned and smiled at Ted before glancing down at where Durrin was still sitting on the floor right by her feet. She reached out and tapped his knee with her shoe, as if to say hello. "Nice to see you too, Durr. No need to get up."

He smiled and opened his arms to offer a hug.

"You stand up and I'll hug you," she smirked, taking a wide step over him to walk straight over to where Ted stood. "Hey you." She slinked her arms around him. "Just the man I wanted to see."

He smiled and kissed her. "Hi."

She glanced around the empty looking room, seemingly awestruck by the sight she saw. "I can't believe you packed this much. I thought I'd be walking into the same thing I left and I'd have to spend the next week packing."

"I told you I'd take care of it," he said, reaching out to rub her back affectionately.

She turned back to stare at his face, as if inspecting it. "James, Al, or Lily? My guess is Lily since everything is neatly labeled."

Ted threw her a look that asked to give him some credit. "You know, I can pack and label stuff…"

She continued to stare at him, a smile slowly growing the longer she did.

"Fine," he muttered. "Lily."

"I hope you paid her," Victoire said with a small laugh, still surveying the room and all of the boxes. "She does good work—"

Durrin suddenly cleared his throat. His arms were still outstretched as if he was expecting a hug.

Victoire looked at him. "You're not going to quit unless I give you a hug, are you?"

"Nope."

She reached down and hugged him, laughing and mumbling something about him being a weirdo as she did it.

"So, how's life in Australia?" Durrin asked once she let go and stood back up straight again. "You miss us?"

"You _know_ I miss you, Durrin," she joked in a playful tone before her voice returned to normal. "And things are great. Exhausting at times, but really great." She looked back at Ted. "About to get better, of course."

"I heard you went to France," Whit said. "How's your brother doing?"

"He's doing…" she seemed to be choosing her words carefully, "better. He's doing better." She bit her lip. "He looked world's better than the last time I visited, which was when he had that horrendous facial hair thing growing out of his face. Actually, Nicki stopped by the other night while I was there, and she told me she had been the one who had held him down and made him shave it off."

"Nicki was there?" Ted asked before he walked over to clear some space on the couch for the both of them to sit.

She nodded. "Just for a day. We all went to dinner. I guess she's in France a lot now since she works under the British liaison to France for the Department Magical _Games_and_ Sports._ From what she tells me, she pops in on Louis from time to time to check up on him." She smiled sarcastically. "Which he of course loves."

"Okay," Durrin said, sounding confused. "What exactly happened to your brother, again? Ted mentioned something about a girl dying, but that's all I got."

Victoire took the seat next to Ted. "It's a long story."

"How are you going to let me bring up a girl dying and then not fill me in on the details?" Durrin asked.

"I've already told you this entire story," Ted said.

"You did?"

"Yeah, months ago after it happened. We were at the Leaky Cauldron and—"

"Was I drinking?"

"Durrin, is it possible for you to set foot in a pub and not drink?" Whit asked.

"Which explains why I don't remember," he said obviously as he pointed from Whit to Victoire.

Victoire sighed and glanced at Ted, though he just shrugged. "Fine. To make a long story short because I'm not telling the whole damn thing again, Louis's girlfriend died about six months ago. They'd been together since he ran off to France years ago and he was naturally very upset about it."

"That's right…" Durrin said, nodding slowly. "I have heard this. Some sort of muggle accident, right?"

"She got hit by a Muggle car," Victoire said, shaking her head and looking back at Ted. "That's honestly one of my biggest fears in the world. I cannot even tell you how nervous I get to cross Muggle streets, but now…" She shivered. "Anyway, Juliette was walking and not paying attention, got hit by a car, of course she was surrounded by Muggles who treated her with their medicines, and she just didn't pull through. She died at the scene. It was horrifying."

"And this was the same girl that you didn't like?" Durrin asked.

Victoire hesitated answering right away, looking as though she was trying her best not to say something negative. Ted knew the truth was that she hadn't liked Juliette much at all, but she seemed to feel terribly guilty admitting that these days, considering all that had happened.

"I liked her as a person," Victoire said slowly. "I just wasn't fond of her and Louis together. That being said, I didn't want her to get hit by a car. I wouldn't have wished what happened to her on anyone. " She signed and looked back at Whit. "But anyway, Lou's doing a lot better. He was laughing and more like his old self this time."

"Good," Whit said. "I was worried about him for a bit there."

"But listen to this," Victoire said, turning back to Ted very quickly, "I do find it all very coincidental that…" She stopped, flipping her train of thought immediately. "Guess who _also_ stopped by while I was in France?"

Ted shrugged.

"Sarah."

"Really…?" said Ted and Whit together, both sounding equally as surprised to hear that. After Louis and Sarah's three year relationship had ended—much to both of his sister's horror considering they adored Sarah—everyone had assumed the two had gone their separate ways. Even though no one ever got the impression that it was a particularly bad breakup, Sarah was one of the last people Ted would have expected to suddenly be back.

"Yeah," Victoire said, glancing from Ted to Whit. "I guess she and Louis have been in contact for a few months now."

"I had no idea they still talked to each other," said Whit.

"Well, they did stop after they split up and he went to France," Victoire continued, "but according to Sarah that was mostly because he moved and because they went on to focus on their own lives, not because they had any ill will towards each other. Anyway, I hadn't seen her in ages when she turned up—and she looks fantastic, by the way—but we got to talking. I guess she'd heard about everything that happened to Lou from Nicki after it all happened, and she'd decided to write him just to say she was there for him if he needed a friend. The next thing you know, he's writing her back and they're keeping in touch. This had been going on for months, but she could only just now get the time to actually come visit. So, the night she came, she, Louis, and I spent the night talking and laughing. I went to bed at like midnight, only to wake up the next morning and see the two of them still sitting in the exact same spot, still talking." She laughed a little. "It was like déjà vu of years past ago all over again. It was as if nothing had ever changed."

"Do you think...?" Whit began, hinting at the obvious question in the room. "I mean, I know Louis's still…but with their history, would it really be surprising if—"

Victoire shrugged. "I'd be lying if I didn't ask the same thing. I mean, what I saw…I wouldn't be surprised if maybe one day, when Louis's made peace with everything, they could…if they wanted to…again." She stopped. "It's too soon though to speculate. I even hinted at it to Sarah, and while she didn't deny a possibility, she also said she just wants to be there for him as a friend right now." She shrugged. "Strangers situations have brought people back together."

"You just want Louis and Sarah back together," Ted said, laughing a little. "I think you were more upset than Louis was when they broke up."

"No, Nicki was most upset," Victoire said, "which is funny, considering how mad she was when they got together. She was ten times as angry when they split up. She'll throw a party if they get back together."

Ted smiled, just as Durrin cleared his throat and started to pull himself off the floor. "Well, I—" he looked at Whit, "that is to say, we, should probably leave you two alone considering you haven't seen each other in age and probably want to…whatever."

Whit nodded and looked at Victoire. "If you don't fit me in on one of these days before you go back, I will hurt you."

Victoire shook her head and laughed. "I promise. What about tomorrow?"

"We've got a going away party at Harry and Ginny's tomorrow," Ted quipped.

She turned to stare at him. "Already? We don't leave for a week…" she mumbled before looking back at Whit. "We'll work something out."

"We always do," Whit said, walking over to the sofa where Victoire sat to stand behind her, lean over, wrap her arms around her shoulder for a quick hug. "I'm glad you're back. Even if it is just for a couple of days."

Victoire smiled up at her as Whit let go and made her way towards the door. Durrin followed after, and Ted could just make out Durrin saying, "Hey, there's a Tornadoes match starting in a half an hour. Let's go."

"You know I hate Quidditch," Whit muttered before she pulled the door open and turned to wave back at Ted and Victoire. "See you two later."

Durrin stopped and turned back and waved as well, all before grabbing at the door Whit was still holding open. "There's nothing to hate about Quidditch. I've told you countless times if you would just let me explain the game…"

"And I've told you that it has nothing to do with not understanding the game. It's just stupid—"

The door slammed shut behind them, their voices disappearing onto its other side.

Victoire glanced back at Ted, already shaking her head.

"When will they realize…?"

Ted laughed, already well aware of where she was going with this. "You need to stop trying to make _that_," he pointed towards the door, where Whit and Durrin had disappeared through, "happen. You've been trying for four years. It's not going to happen."

"It's already happened…"

"A few nights of hooking up two years ago does not count as 'happening'," said Ted. "Especially since nothing has happened since."

"You know, I have a secret feeling they've had a night or two since, but Whit just won't tell me because she knows how excited I get and I start clamoring on about how I think they need to be together."

"Even if Whit wouldn't tell you," Ted said, laying his head back against the couch as he started absently playing with her ponytail, "Durrin would tell me. He hasn't, which means it hasn't happened."

"Look, all I'm saying is never say never," she said, adjusting herself so that she could now lean comfortably into him. "People used to say that about us."

Ted shook his head and smiled at her, realizing that there was no swaying her one way or the other once she got her mind set on something. One thing he never had to worry about was Australia changing that part of her.

"I know that face," said Victoire, reaching out to poke him in the stomach. "But you wait, I bet while we're in the Australia something will happen between them. We're both leaving now, so they'll only have each other to…" She nodded resolutely. "You wait. I'll be right. I can sense these things."

"If you say so," Ted said, pulling her closer to wrap his arms around her.

"And you'll be hearing a lot of 'I told you so' once they're married and our kids our playing with theirs…"

"Okay, now you just sound mental," Ted laughed as he pulled her down onto the sofa on top of him. "I think you've been spending too much time out in the sun."

"Oh, how funny you are," Victoire said sarcastically, letting her face hover right above his. "I almost tend to forget while I'm away how much I miss you being a smartarse…"

"You know you've missed it," he said, picking his head up to meet his lips with hers. After a long, drawn out moment, he let his head thump back down onto the sofa.

"Well, I don't have to miss it any longer, do I?" Victoire asked, a wide smile appearing across her face.

Ted met her smile before he reached up and began playing with her ponytail again. "No, now you're just stuck with it for the rest of time. Which, speaking of being stuck with each other, have you given any thought to when you want to…"

"Have the wedding?" she asked, finishing for him.

"Well, you had mentioned you didn't want to do it until after we were back from Australia so that way could be home and settled and do it properly. I just wondered if that was still the time line we were aiming for."

Victoire shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I thought…" She trailed off. "Don't get me wrong, I do want it to happen here at home, but….two years…I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

"Just," she began, "I mean, my mum's already got so many things in the works, things that sound amazing and incredible and she's working so hard, but…" She sighed again. "Two years is a long time to wait."

Ted nodded a little. "Yeah, but if we're spending the rest of our lives together, who cares how long it takes?"

"I know. It's just…" She smiled a little. "Sure, it makes sense to wait and have it turn out exactly as I've always imagined, but at the same time, a part of me is just thinking, 'Sod it all. Sod all the work and the planning and let's just do something quick and just make it official.'"

Ted laughed. "Hey, I'm all for that, but," he shrugged, "your mum and dad— no, your entire extended family, would kill you. The whole lot of them are all really excited about," he gestured between them, "this. You should hear your aunts and uncles talk about how 'wonderful it'll be' and 'how excited' they are to see us finally get married." He sighed heavily. "You've missed all that chatter while you've been away."

"I know…" she said. "It's just rotten that we have to wait because of being halfway across the world. Like I said, I know it makes sense to wait, but…"

Ted reached his head up kissed her again. "If it's any conciliation, I would marry you right now if we could."

She quickly looked him in the eyes and immediately grinned a little. "Would you?"

He nodded. "You know damn well I couldn't care less about the party. I'm just want to make it official." He smiled. "I just want to marry you."

Victoire pulled herself off of him to sit up straight on the sofa. She stared back down at him with a strange curiosity in her eyes; the kind that seemed like she was contemplating something. "Then let's do it."

Ted furrowed his brow.

"We'll probably have to wait until morning, but…" She shrugged. "Let's just do it."

"Do what?"

"Let's get married before we leave."

Ted gawked. "What?"

She smiled and nodded.

"But your whole family is…" He gawked again. "They'd…but you've always wanted…" He sat up. "Your mum will kill us. She's entirely too excited."

"She can still have the party when we get back."

"Why would she if we're already married?"

Victoire looked away for a second before glancing back at him. "Do we have to tell them?"

Ted's eyes practically bugged out of his head.

"It was just a thought," she said, laughing at his expression. "I was just thinking about how neither of us wants to wait, but at the same time, no one has to know we did it. We could just not say anything, so when we get back, everyone still gets a wedding and a party."

"Okay, now I know you've been spending too much time in the sun…"

"We don't _have _to keep it a secret," Victoire said, laughing again. "Though, secret keeping is something we've always done well." She turned her body to face him dead on. "Look, if we did do this, we can just as easily tell everyone before we leave. I just know my mum and dad will be crushed if they don't see me in the white dress with the whole to-do."

"So, why not just wait and give that to them?"

"Because I'm the one getting married, not them," she said. "And…" she looked him in the eyes. "If you're willing, then I don't want to wait."

Ted stared at her, wondering just how serious she was being. This was the same girl who'd spent her entire life imaging the details of her wedding and now she was just so willingly ready to throw it all away? What on earth had she been doing Down Under?

"I just think," Ted began, "that if you do it this way, you'll regret it. You've always said how much you've wanted a proper wedding and…"

"Are you saying you want to wait?" she asked.

"I'm saying I want you to think about how you want to do this."

Victoire nodded thoughtfully and stared down at her hands. "So, you're only concern is how I might handle this. You're perfectly willing to get married right now if I were able to convince you that this is what I wanted to do?"

Ted took a deep breath and looked around his boxed up flat—a world of history surrounding him and now packed away. He didn't know what to say to that. If he told her the truth, that yes, he'd go find someone tonight if it were possible to marry them. However, if she knew that, she may very easily just go along with this mad whim she'd suddenly cooked up. Where had this come from? She wanted a real wedding, he knew she did. She'd regret it if she didn't get it; he knew that much too…

He looked back at her.

She was smiling at him. "What do you think?"

"I don't even know…" he said, laughing almost doubtfully.

It almost seemed as if this was completely his decision. Did he do what he knew he should and tell Victoire they should wait in order to give her what he knew she ultimately wanted. Or did he do what he wanted—get married in the way he'd always wanted—and risk that in a year's time, Victoire would regret the hastiness of it all?

"You have to know something," Victoire said earnestly, taking his hand into hers. "What are you thinking? What's the first thought on your mind?"

"I just want to marry you," he said, saying literally the first thing that came to him.

"Then let's go do it now and screw the waiting," Victoire said, smiling quickly. "Come on." She squeezed his hand. "I dare you."

"You daring me to do something has never really boded well for us in the past," Ted laughed, still wondering whether or not what was transpiring was actually happening.

"Well," said Victoire, standing from the sofa. "I think it's time we change that."

A/N:

First of all, I hoped you enjoyed the story. I enjoyed writing it, I enjoyed sharing it, I just hope you all enjoyed the trip. :) Second, THANK YOU ALL FOR FOLLOWING THIS STORY/SERIES. THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS. THANK YOU FOR THE FEEDBACK. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU! There are so many of you I've met through this thing, and so many great conversations I've had because of it. I appreciate it all. I really do. :)

This thing has been quite the staple in my life for almost two years, and while I'm sad to see it go for MANY reasons, I'm also happy to have it done. It was quite the project, and it's always nice to finish something that you've put so much work into.

While this is the end of my T/V series, it isn't the end of my stories. I'm taking a little break before I pick things up again, but there will be new stuff. If you're interested in knowing what (and potentially when) you can expect from me in the future, there's an entry at my fic journal titled "HTaE Author's Note" that talks about some of the ideas and stories I'm thinking about. It's a public entry, so you can read it without friending me or joining livejournal. :)

So, once again, thanks to all of you who have followed this. Especially those of you who have been dedicated reviewers and/or have been there since day one. :)

-Sweasley


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